


The Dick Roman Story

by coplins



Series: Packrunners [20]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Crowley (Supernatural), Alpha Lucifer (Supernatural), Alpha Michael (Supernatural), Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Omega, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Animalistic, Depression, Fake Science, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Juvenile Gabriel, Juvenile Raphael, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Miscarriage, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Dick Roman, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Out of Character, Pack Bonding, Prequel, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Slow Burn, unhappy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-20 15:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 110,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13720143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coplins/pseuds/coplins
Summary: 18-year-old Dick Roman is sick of living in the slums. He wants out. He just hasn't figured out how to go about doing it yet. He'd never expected to present as an Omega and his lack of scent makes him all but invisible to Alphas. Almost. Apparently, when it comes to catching the attention of Alphas, he seems to draw only the attention from Packrunning trash. He fucking hates Packrunners. They make his life difficult. It's not fair that when his heart does get stuck on someone - it's a Packrunner.





	1. Peter Hale

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody asked me for Dick Roman's backstory, yet here it is. :P Sorry, not sorry?
> 
> This has crossover elements with Teen Wolf, BUT they're minimal except for one character - Peter Hale (The guy in the gif on top of the chapter). I have taken exceedingly big liberties with his character so if you're a TW-fan, sorry but don't expect much from it. For everybody else - you don't need to know _anything_ about TW.
> 
> About original characters - don't get attached to them unless you've already seen them in the present day. People will die here.
> 
> The miscarriages mentioned are very non-traumatic. I've yet to decide if the third one will be brought up, but if it does, I will warn for it so you'll know if it's a trigger for you.
> 
> This story takes place in the slums and at college and Crowley and the Williams won't show up until halfway through it. 
> 
> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### Packrunning Trash

His skins too tight and it feels like he’s burning up from inside, sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades and coating his brow. It’s all he can do not to pant. It’s not a good idea to show yourself to be in a bad shape in these neighbourhoods so he tries to breathe as normally as he can. Somehow, he’d thought it’d be different once he presented. Foolishly, he’d hoped. He hadn’t even gotten a hint that it was coming. Ordinarily, you’d smell a change in the scent a couple of months prior, but for him, the first Heat had slammed into him like a fucking truck. Even now at the peak of his second Heat, you can’t fucking smell it. As an added bonus he’s soaked his pants through with slick and they’re chafing horribly. He suspects he’ll find himself having evolved a rash when he takes them off once he gets home.

“Well, well. Look at the bookworm having turned into an Omega. I would never have guessed.”

_Fuck._

“Go away, Peter.” Dick turns around to give the older Alpha an unimpressed look just in time for the wind to change direction and hit him with a blast of the best Alpha scent ever. He fucking hates Peter Hale and the rest of his pack. He’d thought the guy smelled wonderful even before he presented, harbouring a juvenile version of a crush on the guy. But not even that could have prepared him for how he’d react to Peter’s scent as an Omega.

Peter saunters towards him with a smug smirk. “Now, why would I do that? When I can smell a nerdy bookworm carrying a roasted chicken through _my_ territory?”

Dick gives him an innocent smile. “Because you’re a decent human being?”

“Ooo. Well, that’s an interesting theory. I’m gonna go with no to that question.” Peter’s eyes sparkle with amusement.

He’s too gorgeous for his own good. Too gorgeous for a man who makes a living of preying on others. This far Peter’s never gone further than some verbal ribbing about Dick’s lack of scent, but they’ve never before crossed paths when Dick’s had anything Peter wants. Not like now when Dick’s carrying a delicious, spicy chicken he stole honestly in the richer parts of town. He should have eaten it right away. He _knew_ he should have eaten it before going home. But he simply had no appetite and he thinks the Heat’s to blame.

Dick’s smile widens. The smile he uses to hide behind. His knees feel like jelly under Peter’s blue gaze and charming smile. There’s also a tendril of fear and he can thank his handicap for Peter not knowing about it. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you the chicken, if you do me a favour,” he says, quite boldly.

“I’d say you’ll give me the chicken either way, but I’m intrigued. I’ll hear you out for old friendship’s sake,” Peter humours him and stops two strides away putting his hands in his pockets with a crooked smirk, tilting his head in that arrogant way he always does. He’s so fucking full of shit. There’s never been any friendship between them.

“I’ll give you the chicken if you knot me.”

Peter is taken aback. He stares at Dick as if he’s out of his mind. “You… want me to knot you?”

“You gone earblind all the sudden? That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” Dick _hates_ feeling vulnerable. Maybe it was a mistake asking for it but this is his second Heat and Alphas simply aren’t interested since they can’t smell it.

Peter snorts then smirks in bemusement. “A scrawny little thing like you. How do you suppose I’m going to get it up, huh?” he taunts. “There’s nothing about you to get me going.”

As usual when the urge to cry comes, Dick smiles wider, ignoring the lump in his throat and the ball of ice in his belly. He set himself up for this. Has himself to blame. “A simple no would have sufficed. But I guess you have a point. Well then. Good afternoon,” he answers and turns around to walk away. He flares and starts to drop fangs as soon as he’s got his back turned, elongating them as fast as he can despite the pain in his jaw lacing up to his temples. Hiding his hands he lets his short claws drop as well, thanking his lucky star that all of his family had retained an ability to morph claws. It means he’ll have trouble using his hands for anything useful tomorrow but they’ve saved his life more than once in a fight. “Hold on. You think I’ll just let you walk away with my chicken?”

Dick’s ready for it when he feels Peter grab his arm. He turns around with a roar and slashes with his free hand at Peter’s face, surprising him to let go and stumble back with three bleeding gashes over his cheekbone. Peter quickly collects himself, flaring an intense, bright blue and dropping fangs. He growls and makes a low humming noise deep in his breastbone tract. The sound is so low frequency it’s felt rather than heard, but Dick knows from experience that that frequency carries far even here in the city and it’s bad news for him.

“Aww. You need to call for mommy and daddy for a scrawny little thing like me?” Dick taunts, catching both fear and distress in Peter’s scent alongside anger. Dick isn’t scrawny, he’s slim and fit. Has to be fit to survive. He’s also taller than Peter and if this was a one-on-one he’d bet on himself as the winner. But because of that low-frequency sound that Packrunning piece of trash is emitting right now under his growl, this won’t be a one-on-one. This is about to become many-on-one and a fucking death sentence. “Here. You can have the fucking chicken. My Heat kills my appetite anyway,” he sneers and thrusts the paper bag he’s carrying it in at Peter.

Both the growl and the humming stops abruptly, the distress in his scent dissipating. “You’re in Heat?”

“Yes. If I wasn’t, the chicken would have been eaten already. You want it or not?” Dick presses the chicken bag against Peter’s chest.

Peter completely ignores the chicken, produces a calming rumble in his breastbone and holds his hands up palm out in a placating gesture, slowly stepping closer. For once he’s not smirking, he looks bewildered but shows no signs of previous hostility. “I’m gonna scent you, okay? Don’t lash out. I won’t hurt you.”

Dick stands still, heart hammering, utterly confused by the sudden shift. Peter moves warily, keeping eye contact as if he’s expecting Dick to attack again. He smells so good up close that Dick wants to whimper. Instead, he tilts his head to grant access. “What’s the use? You can’t smell it anyway.”

“I’ll take my chances.” They hear a low-frequency hum coming from maybe a couple of blocks away, then another, closer. Peter responds to it by repeating the humming he’d sent out―the pack distress call―but this time he chops it up with clicks. The same clicked humming is repeated by the two voices in the distance and Peter resumes his soothing rumble instead. This is another thing Dick hates about Packrunners. They have infinite variations of primal sounds that nobody else uses. Progs barely use primal communication at all, Conservatives use it sparingly, Primals a lot more, but Packrunners? They have a full primal language, only half of which could be understood instinctively―the rest needing to be taught. Dick assumes (hopes) that Peter just gave a ‘stand down’.

Peter’s nose touches his neck behind the ear and rubs the gland. Dick lets out an involuntary gasp and feels how secretion starts flowing plentifully enough to run down his throat. It’s another of the crappy backsides of having Heats. Every fucking gland turns hyper-sensitive. It’s a telltale and makes it necessary to wash your clothes more often, especially for him since the oily substance doesn’t come paired with a tantalizing smell. Peter puts his hands on Dick’s hips and licks at the secretion. The warm tongue and the press of fangs set off fireworks. Every nerve turns into a live-wire. He feels more slick leak out of him and he’s rapidly getting hard. He fails to keep from panting. It’s humiliating. He hates his body and its fucking reactions.

“Shit, you really are in Heat, aren’t you?” Peter states and leans away far enough to meet his gaze.

“Mh. Why would I lie about that?”

“Can I knot you?”

Dick withholds a scowled eye-roll. “How are you supposed to get it up? There’s nothing about me to get you going,” he says and smirks sardonically.

“I lied. You have the most beautiful flare I’ve ever seen.” Peter bites his lip for a beat. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turns around and takes off at a flying sprint with no explanation.

Dick’s left standing, stewing in arousal, humiliation, and confusion. What’s he supposed to do? Stand here and wait in a vain hope that an asshole will come back to have sex with him? What if he doesn’t come back? The very idea of standing here being made a fool of nauseates him. He still remains all of five minutes before he breaks and starts walking, feeling like an idiot. It had been a stupid impulse, to begin with. Just because that annoying Packrunner smells like heaven. What was he thinking?

He’s gone three blocks when he hears running steps behind him and turns around. It’s Peter. Peter slows down to a jog then comes to a stop in front of him, he smells of excitement and drying blood from the slashes on his cheek Dick had given him. He holds out a strange fruit and a bottle of water. “Here. It’s all I could find on such short notice.”

Dick’s never been so confused in his life. He doesn’t want to show it so he hooks a corner of his mouth into a smirk. “Not bad.” What else is he supposed to say? Why would Peter come here showing him how quickly he can get his hands on exotic fruit? He’s a Hale, of course he can get a hold of― Wait. _Is he courting me?_

The idea is foreign. Yes, Dick had asked to be knotted, but it had been a business proposition - food for relief. Nowhere in that was it stated that Peter would give him anything.

Peter grins, wide and toothy, fangs still long and impressive. His blue flare is back full force. “Great. Come on. I know a place…” He grabs Dick by the arm and pulls him along at a jog to an old one-storey motel. Half of it had been demolished in a bomb raid and half is still standing. All the doors are locked but Peter kicks one of them open, breaking the lock. He smells of arousal now and Dick flares in response. The room inside is fairly intact, if dusty, smelling stale. There are a bed and a desk. The bed has bedding still. Dick finds it baffling it hasn’t been looted or overtaken by squatters. Peter turns around and pushes him against the wall beside the desk. He puts away the strange reddish fruit and the water on the desk, takes the chicken bag out of Dick’s hand and puts it on the desk too. Then he grabs Dick by the hips and pulls him close with a growl…

* * *

“Here. Eat this.” Peter hands him a chicken leg. He's still naked, showing exactly how fit and healthy he is. All the Hales are healthy. Hale and healthy, like the expression.

“I have no appetite.”

“Of course you don't. You're in Heat. But you're burning through your reserves with triple speed because of it. What? No other lover took care of you properly?” he asks while bending down to take a knife out of his pants lying on the floor. He uses the knife to open the unfamiliar fruit. It smells good. On the inside encased in white, there are clusters of crimson gemlike seeds. Peter deftly extracts a cluster, juices from the seeds colouring his fingers, and comes back to bed with the fruit. When Dick doesn’t answer with anything other than a wrung-out smile Peter chatters on. “My Patriarch would have my hide if I didn’t make sure an Omega ate when I knot them during their Heat. I’m in line to take over after him and failing to do so might make them reconsider. Try this. It’ll spark the appetite. I promise.”

He holds out a red cluster and Dick takes it, sniffing it curiously. “What is it?”

“Pomegranate. From Cuba. They’re pure vitamin bombs. Tastes good too, if somewhat sour.”

Dick puts it in his mouth and chews, enjoying the popping bursts of scent and taste when he bites down on the gems. Peter is right. Once he starts eating his body tells him to keep going. Peter watches him eat with a little smile and a pleased purr, his scent heavy with his contentment. He leans in and rubs his temple against dick’s bare skin. His scent is everywhere, coating Dick more thoroughly than anyone’s scent has ever done. He knew from what he’d seen and heard that getting knotted would relieve Heat symptoms, but he hadn’t realised how much or how amazing it’d feel. This is another thing he hasn’t experienced since he stopped suckling his mother’s breast - somebody being pleased to see him eat their resources…

* * *

_”We should leave him, Susan.”_

_”But, Edgar, he’s our son!”_

_”I know, and I don’t like it any more than you. But let’s face it. We’re starving. We can barely feed ourselves. You and Annie are both sick and Chet is weak from malnutrition. Dick’s another mouth to feed and we have to keep constantly marking him to keep his depression at bay. We haven’t been able to form a permanent bond with him since he stopped nursing. If we leave him none of us will be hit by depression, but we will if Annie or Chet die. This way we’ll stand a better chance to feed us all.”_

_”No. I can’t leave him. I won’t do it.”_

_Dick crawls backwards from his hiding place to flee out of the house ruin they’re currently staying in, away from the cruel discussion of his parents. He runs down to the bay with stinging eyes and skips down onto the big boulders at the base of the pier. He crawls into a crevice big enough to fit his six-year-old body and curls into a ball to cry silently, throat constricting painfully and the familiar ache in his heart throbbing. He claws and digs his small claws into his knees until he draws blood. If he could be happy like other people, if he could feed himself, maybe then they’d want him. Maybe if he smiled more often, or…_

* * *

He’s walking home three days later, Heat finally broken. Still high on Peter’s scent coating him. Peter had stayed, only left shortly once to get more food and drink, coming back with enough to last them for days. He’d absorbed Peter’s scent like soil absorbs water and he’s happier than he ever remembers being. Maybe this time it’ll last? He doubts it, and tries to tamper down the nugget of hope inside of him. He’s never lucky. He makes his own luck. Just like he’d painstakingly learned to read at 7, going out to letter by letter sound out what writing he could find, until he one day was good enough to start trading reading for resources. He still does that. Whether it be reading letters people had received, read books and fairytales for gatherings, or help people understand contracts. In these parts, those who can will hunt, forage, or work for a living. Many resorts to begging and criminality. Others craft - either for their own use or to sell. There are very few TVs for entertainment in the slums. That doesn’t mean people live in constant depression like he does. They make do with what they have and gather to watch outdoor theater, listen to musicians, tell stories, or listen to someone reading, like him. They trade goods for goods if they don’t have money. Most people are happy with life as it is here.

Dick can’t relate. He’s vowed he’d get out of here, somehow. _How_ , his eighteen-year-old brain hasn’t figured out yet.

One reason to get out of the slums currently steps out from a door in the alley in front of him. Anger boils in Dick. Tarrell has harassed him since he was a Juvie, stealing his food and money if he gets a chance. Dick has Tarrell to thank for 70% of his fighting skills. These days it’s 50/50 who’ll win when they clash and unlike Peter, Tarrell doesn’t waste time with polite conversation. Tarrell spots him, flares, drops fangs, and starts walking towards him. Dick growls threateningly and readies for a fight. Suddenly Tarrell stops dead and scents the air in his direction, eyes going wide. He pulls fangs back in, stops flaring, bows his head and licks his lips submissively, a hint of fear coming through his scent. He backs away the same way he came from and disappears.

Gobsmacked, Dick realises it’s because of Peter. He smells like he’s been claimed by a Hale…

* * *


	2. What's Siphoning?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's learns new things about life. Some things you just have to experience or be shown to fully comprehend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### The First Bond

Peter drops down from the roof right in front of Dick, frightening him enough to flare. Peter doesn’t seem hostile though. He smells content and smiles. Dick swears there’s a slight difference in his scent compared to last time they met but can’t put a finger on how. Whatever it is, it’s better than before. “It’s been four and a half week since I last saw you. I don’t know how long your cycle is, but are you by any chance in Heat again?” 

“No.” 

Peter frowns. “I missed it?” 

He hasn’t, in fact. A few days after Dick left Peter, there had been a new note to the Omega marker that could be scented on him - pregnancy. Dick hadn’t known how he felt about it. Peter’s own scent lingered on him for almost two weeks and one week after it had faded Dick had gotten a belly ache, bled a little, and then the scent of pregnancy was gone. It was a relief. When Peter’s scent had faded the dullness of life came back. It was once again a struggle to find a meaning to take the next breath. He battled these feelings like he always did - with anger and a stubborn refusal to let ‘them’ win. He smirks and steps close, leans in to rub his temple against Peter’s neck in mimicry of marking him but in reality to get Peter’s scent back. Peter growls―a pleased sound―grabs him and starts marking him both with temple glands and with his neck. Something inside of Dick sighs in relief from the reestablished bond. He’d realised that he’d formed a scent bond with Peter when it lasted a full fortnight before fading and wouldn’t be washed off with a good scrubbing. As for the aborted pregnancy? In hindsight maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing as it had delayed the Heat and hadn’t messed too much with his body. 

“You did miss it, but you’re welcome to knot me anyway if you wish,” Dick answers inhaling deeply behind Peter’s ear. The 24-year old smells so damn good it makes him weak in the knees to do this even when not in Heat. 

“Damn. What jerk got the honour instead of me?” Peter complains and nips at Dick’s throat playfully. 

“Dear me. I didn’t know it was any of your business,” Dick deflects. 

“Maybe I want it to be. I’ve been thinking about you a lot…” Peter purrs. 

“Lucky me,” Dick answers sarcastically but purrs contentedly when Peter cups his ass and pulls him in for a grind. He’s starting to get slick. It’s too easy to get aroused by this Packrunning trash. “You want to knot me, or not?” 

“Oh, definitely. Which reminds me, I brought you something. Hold out your arm.” Dick does what he’s told and Peter pulls something out of his pocket―a golden chain bracelet―and fastens it around Dick’s wrist. “There. It’s solid gold. If you fall on tough times, you can pawn it or sell it. If not, it looks good with your beautiful flare.” 

Gold. Dangerous jewellery to be handing out in the slums. It’s an invitation to be robbed. It’s also a form of compliment. You don’t give something like this to someone you don’t think can hold on to it. “Why, charmer you. You want to come up? I live close by.” He really shouldn’t invite anyone in. Definitely shouldn’t show a Hale where he lives. Shouldn’t be weak-kneed and flutter-hearted for someone else. But Peter with his wonderful scent, broad shoulders and gorgeously twinkling blue eyes? Sometimes it’s hard to think with your head. 

* * *

“Isn’t this old man Compton’s apartment?” Peter asks driftingly when they lie spooning knotted together. Peter’s fingers trail along his arm and shoulder, coaxing forth goosebumps. 

“Was. It’s mine now.” 

“I haven’t seen him around for months.” 

“Mmh. He disappeared. Such mystery…” Dick purrs with his eyes closed. 

Peter chuckles. “How did he die?” 

_With three gashes in his throat to match those on your cheek. He shouldn’t have tried to rob me._ “Oh dear, you’re not suggesting _I_ had anything to do with it, do you?” 

He feels Peter’s lips form a smile against his skin. “Of course not,” Peter answers in a tone of voice that says he definitely believes Dick to be the cause of the disappearance. “I like what you’ve done with the place. It looked like shit here before.” It’s a small studio apartment but it has running water and Dick’s collected furniture and soft bedding, covered the floor with rag rugs, hung thick curtains and filled the walls with paintings and embroideries. His cupboards are filled with pottery, wood carvings, books and other knick-knacks. He owns a lot of stuff, most gotten through reading, only some of it stolen. 

“What were you doing here before?” 

“Collecting money for protection.” 

Dick sniggers. “That didn’t do him much good.” 

“Of course it did. Nobody touched his store until two months after he’d gone missing. Then we claimed the missed payments from it with interest. Hey, before I forget, I’ve got a job that might interest you. It’s just a couple of weeks during summer but I figured it’d be right up your alley.” 

“I’m not bashing kneecaps to collect imaginary debts.” 

Peter laughs. “I’m not expecting you too. I don’t doubt that you could, but it’d be a waste of your talents. No, this is a legitimate job in a better part of the city. Outside of our territory. I heard about it and called in a favour to put it on hold until I’ve heard if you were interested or not. If you are, it’s yours.” 

“Oh? What is it?” 

“To help an eyeblind college student by reading her books for her and take notes that she dictates. Apparently, it’s hard for her to keep up so she studies during summer too, but the girl who usually does her reading asked for a vacation to go to California and visit family. So if you take the job you’ve got it made for six weeks. Getting paid a decent wage, if I may say so.” 

“And what do you want in return for this favour of yours?” 

“Nothing. I take care of those who belong to me.” 

Dick swallows nervously. “We’re not mated.” 

“Of course not. We’d have to get permission for you to officially join the pack. But you’re still mine. I can smell it,” Peter muses and inhales deeply from the crook of Dick’s neck where his markings have been absorbed to reaffirm the scent-bond. Dick’s not sure how he feels about this level of possessiveness. On the surface, it looks like a win-win for him. But he’s convinced there has to be some backside to how easily he turns simple markings to the scent of a stronger bond. Especially when it’s to a Hale. 

“I’ll take the job.” He smiles to hide his worry about consequences. 

* * *

**_A few months later…_**

“`Siphoning - The practise of forcefully pushing a scent up into the olfactory receptors is the key to all strong, lasting scent bonds…`” 

Dick looks up from the book. “What’s siphoning?” 

“What, are you stupid or something? It literally said what it was on the page you just read. Ugh.” 

“Oh, I understood that perfectly fine, Bellamy. But I’ve never heard of it and skimming the following text doesn’t clear up how it’s done, only deep-dives into different kinds of bonds and establishes that it’s horrendously invasive to do to someone without their consent.” 

Bellamy rolls her unseeing eyes and levels the wall beside Dick with a disdainful stare. Dick leans to the side so her stare makes their gazes meet. She can’t see it but it’s less disconcerting for him while he talks to her. “Oh my God. Didn’t your parent teach you anything?” 

“Sure they did. How to die and leave their kit orphaned, with a final lesson in decomposing. Not a lesson I’ve taken to heart,” he counters and then mentally slaps himself for mouthing off. 

Bellamy’s scorn falls off her face and she gasps, covering her mouth with a hand in horror. “Oh God. I’m sorry. You poor thing! Is that how you lost your scent?” 

Dick almost preferred her snooty attitude to her pity. He chuckles and smiles with a benevolence he doesn’t feel. “No. I was born without a scent. I’m perfectly alright, I assure you.” A lie so often repeated. But in general, he feels a lot better these days when Peter marks him up on irregular intervals. Sometimes he doesn’t even lose the bond before Peter ‘refuels’ it. It’s been four weeks since they last saw each other, two weeks since their bond faded, and about one week since he lost his second pregnancy, just a day before he started this job. He’d feel a lot worse if it wasn’t for the books Bellamy has him read to her. They’re the key to getting out of the slums, he’s sure of it. “But because I was orphaned as a little kit, I’ve missed out on a lot of parental lessons. I only know what I’ve seen, read, or had explained to me. So, please, humour me?” 

“Oh, okay. Like, you’re supposed to do it with someone’s secretion. What you do is this…” She opens her mouth to show her tongue curling at the sides. “...then you kinda push up with the tongue in the back of your throat? But you can only do it with your mouth closed. It makes a really silly pig noise. You can try it out here, but only on the air in general.” 

“Thank you.” Dick follows her directions and gets it right almost right away. Aside from the piglike grunting it makes it also amplifies all scents. He picks up details about Bellamy he couldn’t before. Like a slight hint of depression and distress so faint it’s barely there. She has a scrape somewhere that’s scabbed over. There has been a cat in this room in the past. Small details that make Dick wonder why people don’t do this all the time. 

“Just like that. Well done. Now, can you stop? I don’t _actually_ want you siphoning me.” 

“Naturally. I’ll go ahead reading. Where were we? Ah. Here we are…” 

* * *

He's gotten good at not showing how affected he is by his Heat. He can't do anything about his temperature or the sweat but he can act as if he doesn't notice it. He leans against the bars and crosses his arms over his chest, watching the other detainees with disinterest. They're all Alphas and all but one are utter trash. He can smell disease and pain on all but the big, bored looking guy in the corner they brought in an hour ago. He smells healthy but also has a weird personal scent that makes Dick want to wrinkle his nose in confusion. He can’t imagine letting any of them touch him. 

A guard Dick hasn’t seen before comes walking and stops outside the holding cell. “Richard Roman?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

The guard beckons him to come to the door. “You was arrested for using scent blockers yesterday, correct?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“You’re free to go.” 

A small guy scurries towards the door and grabs the bars before the guard has unlocked. “What? You let him out? Just like that? No bail? No trial? That’s unfair! What about me?” 

The guard bangs his baton on the bars to get the little guy to jump back with a hiss. But the one to answer is the big, healthy Alpha in the back of the cell. “They let him go because they make embarrassing mistake nabbing him. They afraid to get sued, locking up depressed Omega in Heat with us. Now back off and let the officer take pretty little Omega to safety, or I’ll make you not need lawyer but undertaker, you get what I’m sayin?” The Alpha has a heavy Russian accent and talks casually, but he’s both tall and all muscle, appearing to be able to easily make reality out of his threat. The small guy squeaks and scuttles away as far as he can from the big guy, stinking up the cell with fear. The big guy goes on ignoring him, giving Dick a wink before he resumes staring at nothing looking bored. Dick fucking hates him for recognising that Dick’s in Heat and not offering his knot up. He hates it, because it’s his lack of smell that makes Alphas uninterested. It doesn’t matter that he a moment ago wouldn’t have let the stranger touch him due to the weird scent of his. He knew, he didn’t make a move, and that hurts. 

The guard unlocks to let him out. “You’re in Heat?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Crap. I’m sorry. You should have been let out hours ago, but there was a guard shift and then somebody robbed a bank and it was all hands on deck. You’ve got a mate you want me to call for you?” the guard says as he’s escorting Dick away from the cell. 

“No, Sir.” 

“I get off in one hour. Do you want to sit on my knot while I write a report? I can give you a lift home afterwards,” the guard offers. 

The guard smells okay. Not great, but not bad either. Dick accepts. He turns out to have a massive knot and it is _heavenly_. It almost makes up for his bland scent. He also provides Dick with a sandwich, a bottle of water and a cup of coffee before they sit down and knot together. The guard wears a condom and rests his chin on Dick’s shoulder while he taps out the report with his arms on either side of Dick’s torso. Dick reads along with the writing, pretty certain he isn’t supposed to and convinced the guard thinks he can’t read. While they sit like that there’s a commotion and he sees several police officers come swarming around the big guy from the holding cell, but now the cops are showing submission and deference. “I’m sorry, Agent Porter. But if you’d just said something―” 

“Yes, because that’s how undercover works. You _tell_ people,” the big guy answers them sarcastically before the group gets out of earshot. It figures that the strange guy was some sort of law enforcement. _Maybe that’s why he didn’t offer to knot me?_ Dick thinks, holding onto that idea to protect himself from the hurt of being unwanted. For some reason, the guard’s scent doesn’t stick to him like Peter’s does. Dick wonders why. 

* * *

“Can I siphon you?” Dick asks the next time he lies knotted together with Peter. Peter is a very busy man. He’s in line to become the Patriarch by general consensus in the pack, and he’s being relentlessly drilled to live up to the task. 

“No, you fucking can’t. For someone who reads as much as you do, you sure are stupid,” Peter scoffs in amusement. 

And that’s just too much. More than Dick can take when he’s this vulnerable. From one moment to another he drops fangs, claws, and twists around with a roar, digging his fangs into the meat of Peter’s upper arm and his claws into his back. The jerk of his movement hurts where the knot tugs at them, but probably hurts Peter even more. Peter shrieks in pain and fear at the sudden change, stinking up the room with fear and distress mingled with blood and pain. He goes rigid and keeps licking his lips submissively while making a pitiful clucking noise that’s placating but also fucking _means_ something Dick can’t understand because it probably is one of those fucking pack sounds. Dick lets go of his bite to roar in Peter’s face, his eyes glowing so brightly Peter’s skin reflects the red glow. Peter closes his eyes―the scent of saline signifying tears before Dick can even see them―and bares his throat to Dick in complete submission. It’s startling. Last week Dick saw Peter in a fight for the first time. He’d heard Peter’s pack-distress call and come running on pure instinct. In hindsight, he’s realised it’s one of the consequences of their tight bond. _His_ Alpha had been in danger. He’d arrived in time to watch the end of the fight, the last of the three assailants going down before his eyes. Peter’s lethal. This frightened baring of throat makes no sense to Dick. The clucking noise he’s making sounds something like the soft sound a mother duck makes for her ducklings. “You want to insult me? Fine! Do that! But **NOT** while I’m naked and you’re knot-deep inside of me! Understand?! There are _fucking limits_!” Peter trembles, tremor after tremor shaking his body. He doesn’t answer. “I’m sick of getting mocked about being weak or stupid. I’m neither, you hear me? At six my family wanted to leave me to fend for myself because they thought me a burden. And look at me now,” he growls. “When they died when I was ten, I was already providing for myself. I’ve fucking _flourished_. By. My. _Self_. It’s easy and be high and mighty when you got a support system of what? Fifty people? A hundred? But I’ve been on my own since I was a kit, Peter. I’ve fought fang and claw for what I’ve got. I don’t fucking need anyone. I don’t need _you_. I ask a simple question and a fucking yes or no would suffice, okay?! It’s not my fault that I’d never heard about siphoning until a couple of weeks ago! I’ve never seen it done. Nobody showed me. How am I supposed to know I can’t even ask that from my―” He bites off the sentence to grit his teeth. “From _a_ Alpha knotting me?” he changes the sentence. 

Peter’s body is wracked by big sobs, the clucking never stopping, he’s stroking his hands soothingly along Dick’s torso, still trembling. His knot isn’t going down, still locking them together despite there not being a trace of arousal left in his scent, only fear, pain, and _mourning_. Not the sadness that comes with pain, but the deeper sort of sadness that comes with great loss. Dick doesn’t understand it. 

Dick bites at Peter’s bared throat symbolically without breaking skin, then goes on. “I could kill you now. You think I’ve never had to do it before? That I can’t? I’m a fucking survivor, Alpha. Sure, your pack would search for your killer, but how would they find me? The moment our bond fades there’s nothing for them to track. I’m getting out of here. Just you wait. I’m going to college, and I’m leaving this shithole for a better life, a better place, and I won’t be mocked for my lack of experience of a normal fucking upbringing. Do you understand? Fucking _answer me_!” 

Peter nods. 

Dick falls back on the mattress with a growl, wriggling into a less contorted and painful position for the both of them, anger burning over the sting of rejection. 

Minutes tick by. Peter's tremors don't subside even if his sobs do. They remain firmly locked together. 15 minutes later Dick speaks. “Why is your knot not going down?” It’s been almost 40 minutes now, double the usual time. 

Peter takes a couple of deep breaths. “I don't know… I'm sorry. I get that you want to get as far away from me as possible―“ 

“Who says?“ 

“You don't?“ 

“No,” Dick admits. 

Peter shifts to hold him, clings. “I love you.” 

Dick's heart stops. His parents stopped telling him they loved him after that fateful day when he'd heard them talking about abandoning him. They never did, but they stopped reminding him of their love and marked him less often as if they mentally prepared to do it. He'd never expected to hear it again. He coos a comforting sound and starts licking at the blood on Peter's arm where his fangs had dug in. The stink of distress and mourning starts to fade and with it, the tremors. 

“I'm sorry, Richard, I _want_ you to siphon me. I've wanted it for months. But it's not my decision to make. We need to have the permission of my Main and Patriarch.” 

“Why?” 

“Because if you siphon me, our bond will shift into a pack bond too. You'll be part of the pack. That's why I can't let you do that. We'll have to wait until I'm the Patriarch. It'll be years but once I step into that role they can't stop me from choosing who I bring into my pack… who I mate.” 

Dick's heart beats triple digits. “Would you mate me?” 

“Yes. I think you are incredible.” 

This is all news to Dick. “Then why are you always condescending?” 

“Defensive mechanism, I suppose? Look, living in a pack has benefits. But with the professions we have―“ 

“Criminal bullies, you mean?” 

Peter gnashes his teeth but doesn't bite back. “Yes. With what we do, being hard is necessary. Pretending to be superior is backbone reaction by now. Sweetheart, I've been fascinated by you since I first saw you. You were barely a Juvie and I followed you for hours before you crawled into a hole in a bombed out building and disappeared. Later I asked my parents where you could have gotten so strong scent blockers. They said there were no blockers that lasted for hours. They said you were depressed and would be dead within months. But you didn’t die.” 

“Bet your parents are disappointed that I dispelled that presumption.” 

Peter ignores the comment, flitting to another thing as if he's got too many things to say, too many thoughts at once. “I've never met someone who forms bonds so quickly and easily as you. The way you smell of me… it's bordering on a mating bond and it drives me crazy. There's only one tiny thing missing―“ 

“My scent,” Dick interrupts. 

“Probably, yeah,” Peter agrees. “If we just figure out how to unlock it…” 

“I was born without one. I don't have one so you can drop those thoughts right away.” 

“Oh, no, you definitely have one. I can feel it!” Peter says with total conviction. Dick _aches_. 

“You can feel it,” he states skeptically. 

“Yes. I knew it from the moment we first had sex, when I tasted you. You're there, just hidden. If you weren't I wouldn't react to you like I do.” 

Dick remains unconvinced. So many things about Peter's behavior are confusing. The scent of drying tears, the submission, the lingering mourning in his scent. Why his knot doesn't go down when they're almost on a 40-minute mark. Dick twists so he can rub his temporal gland against Peter. He doesn't know why he does it. It makes no sense since all it does is smear Peter with traces of nothing. The soothing rumble from his breastbone tract also surprises him. Instinct is a weird thing that's saved his life enough times for him not to question why he does it. 

“I love you, Richard,” Peter repeats. “Almost enough for me to start believing in truemates.” 

“There's no such thing.” 

“I know. But still.” 

The knot is finally going down and the last traces of mourning disappear. “What difference does it make how you feel about me anyway, when you're not the one to choose what to do with those feelings?” 

“I'll make it right, somehow. I promise.” 

Dick needs to see to believe it. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment. :)


	3. Making New Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick meets a group of people who open up a new world to him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### The European Pack

The idea of Truemates is a disease that kills. Dick sees it all around. Couples who stay together when they would fare better alone or with a new partner doom themselves. And yet, Dick retains a fragile belief that Peter loves him and maybe it's meant to be. He isn't very keen on joining the pack, though. Packrunners are the bane of his existence. As a rule of thumb, packs are more successful here in the slums, few as they may be. They might have the same trouble getting jobs or finding resources (unless they're Hales) as anyone else, but they get to keep what they have. You mess with one of them, all of them mess with you. But Dick doesn't like the idea of having someone else dictate what he does. 

Dick knows the Conservative scripture by heart, having read it to so many gatherings. He doesn't like their ideas either. It's the same as with Packrunning except with a God ruling you instead. 

Progs are pretty sensible people in general. They've got ideas Dick can get behind. It's about forming friendships and get to know each other before you show vulnerability. Like the sex thing. No rules to adhere to about having to give up your resources when what both of you are after is a roll in the hay. Progs still share. Dick's read stories and news for groups of Progs. Progs are the kings of potlucks and trading. They give gifts to friends because they want to, help people if they want to. Barter. Make deals. They know how to respect and appreciate independence. Everything about the Progressive ideas makes sense except their rejection of Primal senses. Flare in a group of Progs and at least half of them get offended, the rest shit themselves in fear. That's not even counting teething or primal sounds. And that's a hard limit to Dick. If there was such a thing as a Primal Prog, Dick would identify as it. 

Primals are the easiest to deal with. Their body language and sounds made for an easy understanding of intent. But they can also be the most judgemental assholes out there. The more someone relied on their primal senses, the more likely were they to mistake Dick for an easy prey. If they understood that scentlessness equals depression they thought he wouldn't fight back if they tried to rob him. They couldn't be more wrong. 

Dick doesn't identify as anything. He's just turned 19 and he's learned to either keep his words ambiguous or to adapt to seem like the rest of the company. But for once he's stumped. He realizes he's never worked for a pack before. They're Primals like all Packrunners and all of them Alphas. He's been asked to read letters to them and to write answers. There are five of them. Different ages and looks, unrelated by the scent of them but no less bonded. They live in a two bedroom apartment and own a lot of stuff. 

The leader appears to be the old man with the bushy gray moustache who has a deformed leg and chronic pain. Despite that, all of them reek of prosperity and happiness. “I was told I was getting paid in money,” Dick points out when a plate full of food is put in front of him. It's roast duck and vegetables and it smells delicious. His stomach rumbles. He has food at home, he's rarely starving these days but the meal is mouth-watering all the same. 

A brown envelope is put beside him. “Of course, dear. Here you are. But I'd be a jolly old fool if I'd invite an Omega to my home and didn't feed him,” the elderly Alpha says with an English accent. They all have strange accents but not the same one. And they'd also insisted to scent him (uselessly, needlessly) when he arrived. Only Primals insist on doing that. He doesn't mind since it allows him to scent them back. 

“Appreciated. But what do you expect in return for the food?” 

The Alphas exchange a look. “Nothing. I don't know if you noticed but we're a pack and a prosperous one if I may say so. As such we're obliged to share our wealth with any guest we invite.” 

Stupid, according to Dick. 

“Packs don't invite people home without every member’s agreement,” another Alpha explains. “We asked the man who read for us before to come…” 

“The old leg doesn't keep up as well as it used to,” the elderly Alpha says. 

“He refused.” 

“The asshole.” There's a murmur of consensus amongst the pack. 

“Well, you have my thanks. But I'd feel better if I earn my keep before I partake in any form of non-work related offers.” 

It appears to be the right thing to say. Two of them even purr in approval. Dick will learn later that it's because his answer is a mark of his own prosperity. A starving person doesn't turn down free food. For Dick, it's a matter of quid pro quo. He doesn't want to end up owing anything open-ended. ‘Free’ is an imaginary word made up by dreamers unable to reach their goals. 

Reading for this pack turns out to be a pure horror just like writing for them is a delight. The war is still raging in Europe and Africa and these guys are all Europeans. The letters they receive tell of suffering and mention deaths of loved ones and their responses tell of their successes. The elderly Patriarch is an Englishman named Henry, the rest, Irish, Spanish, German, and Finnish respectively. They’d met as prisoners of war in a work camp and managed to escape with the help from a Russian Alpha that, by description, reminded a lot of the weird smelling big Alpha who’d recognised him as being in Heat in the holding cell. ‘Agent Porter’. Only, these guys called him Dmitri Krushnic and tell stories about him as if he’s a demon. “He broke us out along with the rest of the captives and offered us five a free ride if we helped to escort the others back to their families and those who didn’t have one, over here.” 

“Why?” Dick asks, always skeptical of freebies. 

“Because he recognised that we were pack-bonded and everyone knows Packrunners are the fiercest, most loyal fighters.” Everybody doesn’t know that, but Dick supposes it makes sense for Packrunners to have these ideas of themselves as superiors. 

“And the others he saved, for what? The goodness of his heart?” 

The Alphas chuckle and share a look. “Goodness, no. Their families had already paid a hefty sum to him and his crew. And those who didn’t have families he offered his services to in exchange for money. If they couldn’t pay they were allowed to work their debt off once they were in safety here in America.” 

“But not you,” Dick states, meaning it as a question. 

“Oh, we paid alright. We were eight when it started,” the German answers grimly. “But there’d be none of us left if we’d remained.” 

The Finnish Alpha makes a series of noises that make absolutely no sense to Dick. At first, he’d thought there was something wrong with the guy so he could only use primal communication, but it turns out his English is _very_ limited so instead he purrs, clicks, growls, hums and coos. Dick understands a fifth of it but the rest of them get a full conversation out of it. The only thing Dick gets out of it is ‘danger’ and ‘dead’. ‘Dead’, not ‘lethal’ which are two completely different sounds. He thinks these guys have a much more developed language than even the Hales but he can’t know for sure since he’s never been invited to a pack before. The elderly Alpha keeps up a steady content hum that seeps into the pores and calms everybody in the room, Dick included. 

“Forgive me, I don’t quite understand you,” Dick informs the Finnish Alpha. 

“He said Dmitri is a lethally dangerous spirit, not human at all,” the Spaniard, Ángel, explains. 

“Just because he smells strange and is dangerous doesn’t make him a ghost,” Dick states skeptically. He’d seen a lot of strange refugees arrive at the port. 

“No, _Tío_ , I saw him! When he fought he was fully geared up like a soldier, including goggles with dark glasses. I thought it was to shield his flare, since it was so bright,” Ángel tells him with conviction then lowers his voice to a wide-eyed hush. “But then we were caught in an ambush―” 

“Where we lost the other three of us.” 

“―and he got knocked over so the helmet flew off him and with it the goggles. His flare was white as the silver moon, his pupils mere slits and his eye-whites, _pitch black_.” 

“He healed eerily fast.” 

“He could kill with a single bite without even dropping fangs. One bite anywhere on the body and you dropped dead, just like that. Not even a mark to show for it.” 

“It’s said he can’t be killed.” 

There’s a slight tint of fear in their scents and hushed voices when they speak of him. Dick’s fascinated by how fear can make people exaggerate. He doesn’t question them any more than that, though. It would be rude and stupid. 

Dick finds himself staying late, long after his job is done. And that’s not to do with the food he’s been offered, but the stories told and, later on, the music. The Patriarch plays guitar, The Irish flute, The Finnish and German both sing. When the Finnish man, named Toivo, sings he sings in the language of his country and it is hauntingly beautiful even if the language isn’t. It’s a song of mourning and brings tears to Dick’s eyes. 

In the upcoming months he spends a lot of time with the pack during the evenings. Anytime he reads or writes on their behalf they still pay him, but he’s a welcome guest even when there is no work for him. They’re not always full force. Two of them work as truckers and are gone for days at a time sometimes. He asks them one evening to teach him their languages and they happily agree, not asking for anything in return. Ángel is delighted at Dick’s quick progress. “ _Tío_ , you’re like me! You’ve got the ear!” He exclaims in delight when he and Dick have had a short conversation in Spanish. By then Dick can hold simple conversations in Spanish, German, and Finnish. He’d have thought Finnish would be hard since Toivo barely speaks English. Turns out it’s not hard at all and the lessons make Toivo progress with his English as well, if not as quickly as Dick does. They use a simple picture book for children, pointing, and repeating what the other says. And all the time the content purr of the Patriarch Henry plays a backdrop that Dick comes to crave. 

All this doesn’t mean Dick forgets about Peter. He hates how he’s drawn to Peter because when he tries to seek him out, he’s thwarted. Members of the Hale pack block his way when he tracks Peter’s scent to an apartment complex where the Hale pack has marked the walls. Peter keeps track of his cycle. He shows up. Doesn’t miss a Heat. He’s waiting outside when Dick gets home late at night. Leaned against the wall looking annoyed, reeking of anger. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to find you for days!” 

“Not doing a good job of it, I see. You could start by telling your goons to let me pass or to get you when I come to visit.” Dick smiles pleasantly to withhold the urge to put a fist in Peter’s face. 

“I’ve never told anyone to keep you away from me, but you can’t expect to wander in uninvited to the heart of pack territory and not be challenged.” 

Dick smiles wider. “Dear me. How foolish of me to think that I’d be welcome to seek out the man who claims to want me for his mate. What _was_ I thinking?” He moves to pass Peter without a physical greeting but Peter blocks his way. Dick’s not having any of this possessiveness. He turns on his heel and jumps towards the opposite wall in the narrow alley, jumps up on it pushing off as hard as he can in the other direction. It takes him flying upward towards the wall behind Peter where he pushes off with a leg, repeating the process all the way to the roof. It’s a killer for the legs. What the uptown kids called parkour and do for fun to show off has been key for his survival. The city is made to skip, run, jump, climb and crawl through if you’re fit and limber enough. Dick simply hadn’t looked threatening enough to scare off most people until he was well past 16 years old and if a fight could be avoided it’s the best option. He wanders to the other side of the roof, crouches down and grabs the ledge then swings himself over and in through the broken attic window. It’s a narrow window he’d broken the glass of the first time he entered this building to claim the apartment of the man he’d killed. Nobody owned this house. Or if they did, nobody came to collect rent and live to tell the tale. Dick’s got a couple of ruffians living on the bottom floor to thank for that. He walks over the murky floorboards, careful to only traverse those over the support beams. There’s a reason the attic is empty and it’s not the risk of theft. The door is padlocked from the other side but has a narrow gap covered by chain wire fencing for ventilation at the bottom. He unhinges it from its hooks and squeezes through, then reaches in to hook it back. After dusting himself off it’s an easy walk down the stairs to his apartment. 

It doesn’t take long until there’s a knock on the door. He’s certain it’s Peter, but he still sniffs the small holes beside the door, drilled in to identify visitors before opening. He was right. “If you came here to argue you’re not welcome, Alpha.” 

“Of course not. Come on, Richard, let me in. I’ve missed you.” 

Dick leans his forehead against the wall above the scenting holes and closes his eyes. He catches distress in Peter’s scent and aches. “You’re a lousy Alpha, Peter. I’m better off weathering my Heat alone.” _Or with a ragtag quintet of Alphas who, incidentally, all are about to go into Rut themselves. I wonder if they’d have me? I’m pretty sure Toivo at least has been flirting a little._ Yet he hadn’t stayed because he wants Peter. He always wants Peter. He aches for the Packrunning piece of trash on the other side of the door. The European pack all smell okay. Toivo, in particular, smells very good. Aside from the big-knotted copper, he’s never had anyone but Peter and it’d be a lie to say he isn’t curious. But Peter smells like Heaven and happiness and all things good. It’s an illusion. He’s not good for Dick. But he smells it. 

A faint hint of mourning creeps into Peter’s scent. Dick can’t take it and opens the door. Peter stands looking forlorn with his gorgeous clear blue flare. He swings a backpack off his back and holds it out to Dick hopefully. “I brought food?” 

Dick steps aside and lets him in. 

* * *


	4. Deep-Purring Alphas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Day of the Pyre, and it's the first time Dick celebrates it as an Omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna keep warning of upcoming tragedy in chapter 6. Until then, have some world-building good times. :)
> 
> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### A New Song

There’s a festival in full swing. As much as Dick wants to get out of the slums, when it comes to celebrations and revelry, the outskirts of the city is the place to be. Rich and _safe_ people don’t know how to celebrate. He’s pretty sure rich folks don’t even celebrate the day of the Pyre. The Festival of the Dead. The celebration of being _alive_. Bonfires are lit in every open square that isn’t overtaken by dancers, outdoor plays, musicians, market stalls. Every window including Dick’s has colourful pieces of cloth hanging from them, turning the side of buildings into patchwork quilts. People avoid starting fights, don’t steal, and are a lot more charitable than usual. Of course, there are exceptions, but most respect the temporary truce. Food and drink are happily shared with strangers, the vendors hand freebies to starving kits, and even the Conservatives are acting more like Primals, flirting and knotting openly with uncharacteristic hedonism. On occasions like these, the mix of cultures in the slums turns apparent. Especially when it comes to singing and dancing. There are clusters of singers and dancers from every corner of the world. African, Asian, Latino, European, Scandinavian―you name it. And that’s not counting the sub-groups from smaller cultures that aren’t bound by borders or are local to specific small regions. 

Many people are flaring, something Dick tries to avoid in large groups of people. The moment he does, he stands out and he knows it. Granted, he’s often met with admiration and awe for the colour of his eyes, but he doesn’t like to draw so much attention to himself. 

He roams between any place he hears music. He loves it. If it catches his fancy he’ll stop to dance. He’ll dance to anything. German techno, African drums, Italian ballads. There’s nothing that won’t do as long as there’s a rhythm. His quick feet and limber body allow him to move however he wants and he learns the steps quickly enough. 

It’s not until he’s drawn in by a female voice singing a sultry latino song that he realises he’s never experienced this festival as an Omega. 

“ _Havana, ooh na-na... Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na…_ ” 

The rhythm has his hips moving on autopilot, rolling sensually while his feet do a step-step slide into the spectator ring where the dancers are. He lowers his eyelids and lets the dance take him with a private smile on his lips. He’s habitually keeping his eyes out for a free female to dance with when he feels somebody’s chest brush his back, close but still not pressing presumptuously. The man behind him follows his movements perfectly enough for it to be as exhilarating as it’s startling. Startling, because he’s always been the one to do that, expecting to present as an Alpha, being male and all. He peeks over his shoulder to be met by a sultry smile and lemon coloured flaring eyes in a Hispanic face. He has a moment of uncertainty that he hides behind a welcoming smile and by bending his neck to invite the Alpha to scent him. He’s never led a dance before. The Alpha puts his hands on Dick’s hips to better feel his movements and puts his nose to his neck to inhale deeply. It doesn’t seem to matter to the Alpha that all he gets from him is an Omega marker. 

Like many dances Latino dancing is all about the Alpha showing off for the Omega both by showing how well he can move and how well he follows. It’s not uncommon for two Alphas to challenge each other for the attention of a skilled Omega dancer. It’s also a telltale to weed out the rare Packrunners since it’s not uncommon for them to tag-team or ‘court’ an Omega together on the dance floor. As a Juvie, he’d danced the part of an Alpha and him challenging Alphas was only seen as charming by adults no matter their gender. He was no threat to the underlying _actual_ courting that would resume the moment he left the dance back then. 

He’d never anticipated this. A glance around at the other Omegas dancing tells him how he should be dancing and he adjusts accordingly. It’s not that different except now he decides what moves he wants to see in his partner. 

And he’d thought dancing couldn’t get more fun. 

Soon he turns to dance face to face, preparing his partner for more complicated dancing. He pushes the Alpha away and does a quick step-step spin, step-step spin, hip roll, slide, and goes back to the base hip-rolled step-step slide without taking his eyes off his partner. While he partner duplicates his moves he’s suddenly joined by another golden-flared Alpha doing the same but adding a couple of complicated steps in the mix. 

The sheer excitement to have another Alpha challenging for his attention is indescribable. 

The first Alpha withdraws with a good-natured laugh and the golden-eyed Alpha dances the rest of the song with Dick, dance getting more complicated with breaks to dance close, rolling their hips against each other. He finds himself getting aroused, something he’s never been by dancing before. (No wonder. Juvies have zero sex drive.) The sentiment is echoed in the Alpha’s scent as well as some of the spectators. It’s common that this type of dancing has arousal hanging like a cloud around the dancers but experiencing it personally? Fantastic. He wonders if Peter dances. 

They dance another dance before he decides to move on. The Alpha laments his departure, trying to convince him to stay. Dick declines and seeks out the next place to dance, and the next, and the next. He’s courted by several Alphas due to his dancing skills and aches for more of it. 

It’s very late or very early when he makes his way towards home. The revelry has started to die down, the world no longer as loud even if many people are still out, drunk and happy. He passes a group of people and hears an Alpha deep-purr enticingly behind him. He loves that sound―another consequence of presenting as an Omega―but doesn’t look back. The sound follows him a full block before another deep-purred voice is added to it. Dick turns around to see what Omega could garner that much attention this time of night. 

It's a punch in the gut to find it's _him_. Ángel, Toivo, and the little Irish guy called Murph are walking behind him flaring their eyes and teething prettily for him. Ángel is the first deep-purred voice he'd heard. Murph the second. His shock must have shown because Ángel quiets down and says “I’m sorry, _Tío_ , is this unwanted? It’s hard to tell with you.” 

Dick schools his face and gives them a small, pleasant smile. “Oh, no. It’s quite alright, I assure you.” The words are barely out of his mouth before Toivo adds his own dark deep-purr to his packmates’. Dick smiles wider and turns to keep walking. His heart is hammering fast and hard and he feels like skipping forth, a floating feeling in his feet. 

Toivo’s rumble especially, does things to him. Toivo’s not very talkative in general, language barrier aside. He’s tall, bulky, has white-blond hair, ice-blue eyes, perpetual stubble and eyebrows so pale they’re barely visible. To Dick’s tastes, he’s not exactly a handsome man. Not gorgeous like Peter. But he’s always liked Toivo’s scent a lot. He turns his head to get a better look at his flare - golden, with a red outer ring. Dick cultivates an amused expression to hide that this is the first time he’s ever been deep-purred at and that it’s making him all fluttery and weak-kneed. The three Packrunners share a look, then Murph starts beatboxing to Toivo’s dark bass of a deep-purr. Ángel begins a quick-worded rap in Spanish to their comp, too fast for Dick to make out what he’s singing about except for a word here and there, but he does get the gist from how Ángel holds his hands towards his heart and gestures at Dick. 

Dick’s never seen anything like it and turns around to face them. They approach him with dancing steps in rhythm with Murph’s beatboxing. Dick’s grinning like a loon. How can he not? He’s never heard or seen anyone combine singing and primal sounds into cohesive music before. Ángel finishes his rap and gestures at Toivo, picking up his own deep-purr as soon as he stops rapping. Murph too switches from beatboxing to synchronised deep-purring with Ángel as Toivo starts singing with his hauntingly beautiful voice. But this time it’s a happier, hopeful tune and Dick can make out words. 

“ _Sinä olet se joka puuttuu elämästämme, rakkaus…_ ” 

You, missing (or gone?), our (we?), life (?), love. It’s what Dick makes of it. He makes a trilling noise of delight without a conscious thought and flares. 

Toivo sucks in a breath, eyes going round. “Demonit ja paholaiset,” he curses and grins. “Silmäsi ovat kauniit.” 

Something about beautiful eyes, of course. Dick purrs and starts turning away again, but halts when Toivo resumes his singing. It doesn’t take long for Dick to crumble under the onslaught of three Alphas working in unison, wooing him using both deep-purring, charm and musical talent. He ends up by the dock sitting knotted on Toivo’s lap watching the sunrise sharing a bottle of tequila with Murph and Ángel to either side of him, both frequently leaning in to mark him while they talk and laugh, not showing an ounce of jealousy that Toivo’s the only one who got to knot him. Murph had even supplied a condom. 

It’s quite an experience. 

He learns something startling about Ángel in their drunken conversation. 

“I’m a Progressive convert,” Ángel tells him. “In Spain Progs are in majority, unlike Scandinavia where almost everyone is Primal.” 

“The British Islands you’ll find mostly Conservatives,” Murph chips in, rubbing his temporal gland first against Dick, then Toivo. 

“Yes. But Spain… when Soviet attacked Eastern Europe, our government decided to side with Soviet since they too are Progressives. They’re not, I’ll let you know. I don’t know what the hell they are, but their values are not what being Progressive is about. So when my country sided with the invaders, I joined the resistance.” 

“Forgive my inquisitiveness, but how do you go from Progressive to Packrunner? That’s opposite ends of two extremes.” 

Ángel chuckles. “No, _Tío_ , it’s not. I found Packrunners to share the same values as Progs in almost all departments. Sure, they have a second language, or rather third and fourth counting scent-communication and body language, but there’s a respect for the individual that isn’t found in many places except in Packrunners. I’d never met a Packrunner before I went to Finland to fight on the Soviet border. I ended up with Toivo’s pack high up in Northern Finland, fighting in ice cold, snow-covered forests.” 

“What happened to them?” 

“Dead. All. Not me,” Toivo answers, his strong arms firmly wrapped around Dick’s midriff. He buries his nose in the crook of Dick’s neck and inhales (uselessly) deeply as if seeking comfort. 

“They fought like fiends, keeping a constant contact with surrounding packs using primal sounds. I’d never heard most of the sounds they made before I came to Scandinavia. The further North you get the more common Packrunning becomes. Sweden, Finland, and Norway almost only consist of Packrunners from the middle and up.” 

“Is survive good,” Toivo agrees. 

“I’d say it’s the reason the Nordic countries haven’t been properly invaded yet. Soviet makes progress, but for every kilometer of land they win, they take a disproportionate loss of soldiers. The Swedish air force prevents successful bombings of the Finnish border, The Norwegian navy protects the sea, and Finland’s Packrunning infantry are relentlessly fighting claw and fang for every scrap of land the Soviet tries to take. Volunteers like myself are sent to fight at hotspots if we’re able-bodied enough. So I ended up in Finland, was taken up by Toivo’s pack, taught their languages and learned to love their way of life, war aside.” 

“Soft sun kit,” Toivo chuckles fondly. 

“You say that about anybody from South of Helsinki.” 

“Still not lie.” 

Ángel huffs in amusement. “Well, for buffoons like you who roll naked in the snow, I suppose you’re right.” He turns back to Dick. “Our whole troop got killed or captured in a big offensive. Me and the lout over here got captured and brought to a work camp in Soviet where we met the others. Toivo kept marking me up, purring comfortingly, and slept curled around me at night. He also constantly did a sound I still don’t know what it means―” 

“It stupid,” Toivo flusters. 

“No, please, Toi, tell me. I’ve always wondered.” 

“I call my Patriarch.” 

“Didn’t he die?” Dick asks. 

“I told, it stupid.” 

“It wasn’t stupid at all, Toivo,” Murph says. “That’s how Henry found you two.” 

“So that’s why…” Ángel says with a wondrous quirk to his lips, then turns to Dick. “One night after a new batch of prisoners had arrived Henry showed up by our cot, humming comfortingly and just leaned down to rub himself against Toivo without a word. Toivo reached up to siphon him without even asking. I thought it was so strange since they didn’t know each other before that.” 

“I call, he answer. He new Patriarch.” 

“So… he’s self-appointed?” Dick answers. 

“Sort of,” Murph answers. “Not all of us want the responsibility of leadership. Not all of us are cut out for it. Henry used to lead a large pack in Coventry before he was conscripted. Britain doesn’t care if you’re part of a pack or what it does for dynamics to pick members out willy-nilly. Not like here where a request is sent to packs and they send those who are willing. From what I’ve gathered most American packs ignored any attempts to force them and stayed to defend their own territories or went to fight in places of their own choosing. There are some high ranking Packrunners in American politics and they refuse to be fucked over no matter how much the Government tries. Anyway, Henry might have a busted leg but there’s nothing wrong with his brain. He’s a good leader. And I’ll have to contradict Ángel now, because he’s only seen our type of pack dynamics, but the pack I came from originally… there was no respect for individuality there. We had a straight pecking order and anything you did, you did for the good of the pack. I didn’t like it and volunteered for the army. They couldn’t stop me from doing that, at least.” There’s a hint of bitterness in both Murph’s voice and scent when he says it. Dick wants to ask what he’d been stopped from doing but Murph clenches his jaws and looks away, a clear indication he doesn’t want to talk about it. 

* * *

Everything changes after the festival. Dick accepting their courting makes _all_ of them turn flirty when Dick comes to visit. It’s so foreign because they flirt as a group and if Dick lets one of them cuddle with him or in rare cases knot him, they’re _all_ pleased. He gets gifts like clothes, tools, books - useful items. Amongst other things he gets a pair of Omega pants, a rare commodity in the slums. When he’s worn them one day he vows never to wear anything else ever again. Even when he gets slick they don’t chafe and keep him surprisingly dry. He decides he wants to spend his next Heat with them. 

This time around, he doesn’t gets the chance. 

* * *


	5. A New High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets more deeply involved with the Europeans and discovers something that he really likes doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just saw how many people had given kudos to this part and it makes me really happy that anyone reads it at all. :') Thanks for that.

### A Primal Call

Peter slams him up against the wall and rubs his intoxicating scent all over with a growl. Peter kisses him like a Prog, tongue slicking against his own, the sharp points of fangs grazing his tongue. One hand rucks up his shirt to paw at skin, the other pulls down the zipper in the back of the Omega pants, laying his increasingly wet hole bare and accessible, fingers slipping in. Part of Dick wants to roar in Peter's face at the possessive presumptuousness. But if he had a scent it would be chanting _Yes Yes Yes_. He's lost in the glow of Peter's feverish blue flare. Minutes later he's spun around and caught on Peter's knot while Peter growls threatening at any bypassers and all Dick feels is a content relief to have _his_ Alpha back, despite his Heat not even having hit yet. The scent of the European pack mostly eradicated by Peter’s thorough marking. Peter suckles at his neck gland, making him keen, licks at the freely running secretion from his ear glands, grabs him by the hair and twists his head around to rub his cheek and neck against Dick’s temporal gland, marking himself up (uselessly, pointlessly). 

Dick’s Heat hits only two hours later, possibly and probably triggered by Peter’s presence. 

“Why do you never come to me when you’re Rutting?” Dick asks while they lie on his bed knotted together Peter feeding him with grapes purring contentedly with each berry Dick dutifully swallows. 

“I’m on suppressants. I don’t have Ruts.” 

Another reminder that the Hales are rich, even though they live in the slums. It also explains why he’s never been able to tell where in his cycle Peter is. “Why?” 

“It’s convenient. Keeps my mood more stable. Plus, everybody knows it’s next to impossible to knock somebody up if you’re not in a Rut, and condoms are a menace.” 

Dick almost tells him about the two aborted pregnancies, but manages to hold his tongue. This far, they’ve been - _convenient_. It doesn’t matter. And when push comes to shove, Dick’s begun to suspect that part of the reason he creates such a quick and strong scent bond with Peter is that they don’t use protection. “Could you get me some?” 

Peter chuckles. “Why would I do that? I love your Heats.” 

Dick snorts. “It’s the only times you bother to show your face.” 

“Not true. But you have been starting to get very hard to find. I’m a busy man. I can’t spend days searching for you if you don’t come home.” 

“And you want me to sit around and wait for you?” Dick asks skeptically. 

“Of course not. I haven’t asked you to either. I’m just saying that I come to see you sometimes when you’re not around, and I have duties that prevent me from waiting around or search for too long. But I'll be damned if I let anything stop me from coming to my Omega when you are in Heat.” 

Dick’s feelings about this are mixed. Peter’s sort of claimed him without giving the same right back. Dick’s not all that keen on being _claimed_. And yet hearing ‘my Omega’ makes him flutter-hearted and jelly-limbed since it’s coming from ‘his’ Alpha. “Lucky me,” he mumbles and closes his eyes, quirking his lips in a content-looking smile, hoping his ambivalence doesn’t show. 

“Oh, and. I can get you into college for ten big ones. They wouldn’t let me give it to you for free due to the risks involved, but ten is still cheap. Usually, if we do something like this we take around seventy.” 

“Ten per semester or ten for a full education?” Ten grand is _a lot_ of money. Still. You have to pay a minimum of 100 grand per year to get a basic education here in the city. To get into college you have to have gone to school for at least six to nine years. The specific requirements vary from college to college. Dick’s never gone to school obviously. He’s heard that there are small towns all over the country that offer basic education for free. The education still counts when applying to college, though, and Dick’s toyed with the idea to go to a town like that, convince them to let him take a test or something and maybe learn what he needs to pass the criteria for whatever he needs to know to apply for college. Most colleges _do_ give out full scholarships to a few select students each year. Dick doesn’t know what’s needed for that, and most likely he’ll end up having to pay at least part of an education. 

“Per year, unless you excel in all your classes and automatically get the scholarship renewed. That’s how we do it. We make the college hand out a full scholarship. Then it’s up to our customer, or you, in this case, to work to keep it or pay to make us do it again the next year.” 

“You know that I haven’t gone to school, right?” 

“You haven’t? It doesn’t matter. We’ll fabricate whatever is needed to get you in.” 

That’s something that hasn’t even occurred to Dick to do. But the more time he’d spent with the European pack, the less urgency he’d felt to get away from the slums. He hadn’t spent as much time as he should figuring out how to get to his goal. “Couldn’t you just tell me what needs to be done so I can do it myself? If it’s the risks involved that prevent you from making it a gift, I’m more than willing to take those risks myself.” 

“No. That would equal giving it to you, and like I said, they wouldn’t allow it.” 

There’s no such thing as ‘free’ anyway. “I need to think about it.” 

“Just say the word when you’re ready, and I’ll make it happen. I promise.” Peter feeds him another grape and purrs. The whole room smells of his happiness right now and it, in turn, makes Dick happy. “You’re gonna go to college and get that education of yours, and when you come back, hopefully, I’ve taken my place as Patriarch so we can get mated properly.” He rubs his nose against Dick’s shoulder with a smile, inhaling deeply (uselessly). “Maybe even have a kit…?” he says with quiet hope. 

Dick’s not all that keen on having kits. He might want to, someday. Especially with Peter. But that’s not what makes him react. “How about you moving uptown instead of me coming back?” he asks. He’d never planned to come back. _Never_. 

“I can’t. The pack’s not allowed to operate uptown. That’s Williams territory. We have a longstanding agreement with them.” 

“The pack doesn’t have to move with us.” 

Peter chuckles. “My silly little bookworm. How can I lead them if I don’t live with them?” 

Dick legitimately hates the Hale pack. He wishes Peter wasn’t Packrunning trash. 

* * *

Peter never remarks on Dick smelling of the European pack. Granted, he doesn’t smell as strongly of them as he does of Peter. But the Europeans don’t remark on him smelling of Peter either. Instead, they are a bit… wary, when he comes back to them. They don’t greet him by rubbing their temporal glands against him for four days, like they’d begun to do before, and they tone down any flirty behaviour to nearly zero. Toivo is the first one to break. On the fifth day when Dick’s let into the apartment by Klaus, the German, Toivo rises from his chair and walks up to him. He flares, showing off those gorgeous golden eyes with their rare, red rim, and makes a questioning low-frequency sound Dick’s never heard but that instantly makes everybody tense up and follow Dick’s reaction with intense interest. It’s one of those sounds that you feel rather than hear, but would be felt within a long radius if made outdoors. Dick might not understand it, but he instinctively knows the sound is meant for him personally, as clearly as if he’d been called by name. Toivo keeps eye contact as he slowly bends down and starts angling his temple towards Dick as if he’s preparing to greet by marking him. Dick responds by moving to meet the greeting with a purr. 

Toivo marks his cheek and there's a collective sigh of relief in the room. Soon everyone, even Henry, has moved to rub a greeting on him and gotten one (pointlessly) in return. It's funny how he hadn't realized the backdrop of Henry's content rumble was missing until it returns. Dick might not be sure exactly what transpired but afterwards, things go back to normal. They flirt with him, court him, and he likes that. He likes that he can smell them on himself when he leaves. As time passes Peter's scent fades and is traded for theirs again. 

He's alone with Henry one afternoon, having searched out the pack's company increasing early every day. He brings them food he's gotten in trade not wanting to burden their resources too much since they always include him in their mealtimes. He's on the couch reading a newspaper he's pilfered and Henry's at the table calculating something, purring his balming all-is-well that Dick’s come to crave. Not just any of the Alphas’ content purrs, but Henry’s in particular. Henry might be illiterate but he knows his math. Henry suddenly looks up. “Have you thought about your future, Richard?” 

Dick looks up. “I'm planning to go to college and get an education, then I'm gonna get myself a well-paid job and never return to this part of the city.” 

Henry purrs louder. “Those are some admirable plans. We are currently searching for a new home in a better neighbourhood. It's taking some time since we're particular about having three bedrooms on the ground floor.” 

“Three bedrooms? Two isn't enough?” The Alphas have two bedrooms with big beds and they sleep together. They don’t seem to care who sleeps where. Those who need to go to bed early choose one bedroom, those who don’t, the other. When Dick’s spent the night he’s slept on the pull-out couch with one or two of them curled around him. He can see the comfort of sharing a bed. 

“For the five of us? Sure. But the youngsters long for an Omega or two to join us, maybe have kits in the future.” 

“You don't?” 

The purring stops and the scent of sadness reaches Dick's nostrils. Henry smiles wistfully. “Dear Richard, like you wouldn't believe. I had a big pack before the wars ripped us apart, 294 people. I had two gorgeous mates, Margery and John, with whom I got ten kits over the years. Three Omegas, and a female Alpha amongst them. Two who are still alive. Olivia and Jenny who write me the letters you read.” 

“Ten kits?” That’s a lot of kits to care for and raise. 

“The benefit of being a big pack. But even so, it takes a hard toll to lose your kits for an Alpha. I’ve found that in the case of early miscarriage it hits Alphas harder than the Omegas, which I find strange. Margery had… nevermind. Anyway, I’m old. I go into Rut only once or twice a year these days. Of course, I’d like to have kits around me, and an Omega to share my bed once in awhile. I’d be a jolly old fool not to admit that. But what I’d like more than that, is a Main to share the burden of leadership with. I’m not sure for how long I’ll be around. I’m grooming Toivo to take over. He’s a natural born leader and knows what it takes to keep a pack happy and content, even if he’s a bit scared to be the sole bearer of that responsibility. Tell me, young one, you’re not raised as a Packrunner, right? To my thinking, you’re not even raised to be a Primal?” 

Dick shakes his head. His parents were Conservatives. “What gave me away?” he asks with a small upward quirk to his lips and genuine curiosity. Fitting in, pretending to be whatever designation his peers are, is a key to his success. 

“Not much. But at times your response to us appears to be instinctual rather than thought out. I don’t fault you for it. We imprint on our parents―” 

“I’m an orphan. My parents didn’t do much to raise me. At six they talked about abandoning me to better support themselves and my siblings, cutting out the weakest link, so to speak. By seven I’d learned to read and started to support myself. By ten all my family were dead and gone.” 

Henry’s features, always so kindly, go hard and cold. He flares a wondrous shade of light green that makes Dick think of apples. Henry’s anger stings in Dick’s nostrils. “You mean to tell me they considered leaving _their own kit_? And you’ve been scentless since you were _ten_?” he says with restrained outrage. 

“I was born scentless. That’s why they considered me weak.” 

“They _clearly_ had no understanding of how loss of scent works, or how to deal with a kit that suffers from congenital depression. I’ll be straight with you, Richard, since you aren’t a Packrunning Primal and it can be quite daunting to convert. And you might not understand all the things we’re doing even when you respond to it. We’ve talked about you. When we leave the slums and move into our new apartment we’re hoping that you will move in with us. It’s our intention to woo you, in hope that you’ll join the pack, and mate with, if not all of us, at least one of us. Toivo, in particular, has declared he wants to steal you from your current mate. He thinks the man is a bad mate for you, allowing your bond to fade. He hasn’t lived surrounded by Conservatives before so he holds your mate up to Packrunning standards.” 

This is the first time any of them has mentioned Peter’s scent. “Peter’s a Packrunner just like you, and we’re not mated. He says his Main and Patriarch won’t allow it, won’t allow me into the pack and that we have to wait until he’s the Patriarch,” Dick offers. His inside is a jumble of confused emotions. 

Henry’s anger gets sharper, scent acute. “In that case, Toivo is right. He isn’t a good enough mate for such an extraordinary Omega as you. And his pack is most likely not a welcoming pack to live in, if the Main sees fit to deny a mating bond already in place. Because when you come here after having been with him, you smell mated. And that’s coming from him, since we pick up on _his_ scent.” 

Dick _aches_. He makes a wounded little noise before he can stop himself. Henry gets up to limp over to Dick, bends down and rubs his temporal glands against Dick’s cheeks and neck while purring soothingly. The anger in his scent dissipates. The whole thing is such a loving, paternal thing to do it brings another kind of ache. “It can’t be. I asked if I could siphon him once and he said no. Said it’d make me part of the pack and that wasn’t his decision.” 

“Oh, no, dear kit.” Henry pets him over the hair. “One time won’t accomplish that. You’d have to do it many times over a period of time. It would be counterintuitive, since some questions can only be answered by siphoning. Should a bond form with only one try, your scents are perfectly matched to a degree people would deem you truemates. As a Packrunner, I don’t believe in truemates since we mate with several people and come to love all of them just as deeply. But there’s no denying that some people are a perfect match, physically.” 

Dick leans into the caress, feeling vulnerable but also safe enough to show it. “Only physically?” 

“One might have the wrong designation for each other, different views of life, different goals. Just because it’s love at first whiff doesn’t guarantee it’ll work out.” 

“Can I siphon you?” Dick asks, quite boldly. 

“Naturally, dear.” Henry rubs the gland behind his ear to get it flowing then offers his neck. Dick’s heart hammers with excitement as he leans in, but he stops, hesitating, unsure. “Is this your first time siphoning someone?” Henry asks. Dick nods. “Don’t worry. You won’t accidentally be joined into our pack, and what you’ll experience is perfectly natural, so don’t get distressed. If you have any questions about the experience, don’t hesitate to ask them and I’ll set things straight for you. Just lick some up and siphon it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” 

Dick does as instructed, licking the secretion and pushing the air in his mouth cavity up to the olfactory receptors, just like Bellamy had shown him all those months ago. It’s… not all what he expected. He’d expected the additional information about Henry’s health. There are a lot of things hiding behind his general scent of good health, happiness, and prosperity. Henry is at a beginning of a cold, soon about to get sick. Henry’s mourning. He’s in more pain than Dick thought. He’s slightly distressed or nervous about something. “What are you nervous about?” Dick asks without thinking. 

Henry chuckles. “What your verdicts going to be when you’re done,” he admits without preamble. 

Dick keeps siphoning, because he’s feeling something odd he can’t put his finger on. He needs more, licks again, and repeats the process, feeling his limbs and eyelids getting heavier. The need for more gets more urgent, world shrinking to include only him and Henry in a trance-like way. He’s getting high off of this, he realises, which definitely explains why people don’t do it all the time. He's also getting slick and the beginning of an erection. “Am I supposed to get horny from this? You don't usually turn me on.” Dick realises he's saying with a burst of shame. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. My filters appear to be off.” 

“It's quite alright, dear. I'm not expecting to rile up a young buck like yourself. It's normal to get aroused. It's your body preparing to bond and has very little to do with sexual attraction and more to do with bonding pheromones, specifically my Patriarchal ones. You siphon a Patriarch or a Main you like, you'll get horny if the sentiment is returned.” And now that Henry mentions it he can smell Henry’s arousal even if the elderly Alpha still looks as kindly and patient as ever. Henry doesn’t flirt with him like the others do. He’s always restrained himself to a wink, a cheeky comment, or something else unobtrusive. 

“Patriarchs have special pheromones?” Dick’s having a hard time concentrating. 

“Mhm. Certain behaviours will trigger a change in the body, giving pack leaders a slightly different hormonal makeup while they hold the position. It goes back to normal when someone else takes over. How do you feel?” 

“I feel… I feel pretty stoned. Is that what you meant by ‘don’t get distressed’?” 

“Quite right. Some don’t like it.” 

“I do. Oh, dear, but I really do…” 

Dick likes it too much. Henry warns him not to do it too often with them as long as he’s not certain if he wants to be a Packrunner or not, but Dick ends up asking all of them to be allowed to siphon them at several occasions. He loves the high and the way scent sticks to him after doing it. His general mood takes a drastic swing upward to the point where he doesn’t have to lie anymore when he says ‘I’m fine, I assure you.’ And, by gods, the _sex_. Yes, he gets horny from doing it, but the guys get aroused by him doing it to them too and even out of cycle it turns out that sex is something well worth having when you’re happy and content most of the time. He starts getting exploratory. It’s no longer just about the knotting and the marking. Ángel likes to kiss, the weird way with tongues like most Progs, and strangely prefers to come with his knot outside of Dick which opens up for quickies. Murph likes to lick slick until Dick’s a keening, quivering mess. Klaus, who before smelled just barely okay to Dick, starts smelling good, and he’s into giving blowjobs which is new. Toivo is a chapter to himself. Nobody is as animalistic as him. And when he smells of arousal and growls, the others back the fuck off from Dick. He still won’t go for it unless Dick invites him to and Dick appreciates that respect. One time when Dick’s with Murph Toivo growls and Murph moves to shy away Dick roars at Toivo and Toivo is the one to back off with a placating rumble. All of them always use condoms. 

So much happens in the short weeks since Henry let him siphon it feels like a lifetime. More and more of their primal sounds make sense the longer he sticks around, all of them smell better than ever and Dick’s affection for them grows. Strangely enough, the one his feelings get warmer for the most is Henry. It's strange because he's the only one Dick’s neither having sex with or siphoning. Dick loves him. He’ll be reading, then look up to see Henry tinkering with this or that and feel this warmth in his chest. Henry’s content backdrop purr is the best thing Dick knows. Often as not he ends up laying his own purr too it, synchronizing their frequencies. He’s barely aware of doing it. He no longer accepts payment to read for the pack, even if they offer it. Henry will lay a brown envelope beside him when he reads their letters and he’ll ignore it. They don’t take him for granted. He smells strongly of them now. He’s definitely bonded with them but it’s not a pack-bond. He asks Henry about it and he says that if he develops a pack-bond he’ll know. No, it is an individual bond with each one of them. He smells like people with many close friends or who live with their families still. People react to it, are more likely to get out of his way, less likely to try to scam him. 

He still has to work, though. That's how Peter finds him. Just like last time, Peter marks him up to high heavens before even saying hello. Just like last time Dick's knotted in place, Peter growling at bypassers, jerking Dick's head towards himself to forcefully make Dick rub his temporal gland against him. He mumbles ‘I've missed you’ and ‘I love you’ over and over and Dick's back under his spell. 

But this time the scent of the European pack lingers a lot longer before Peter's replaced it fully with his own. 

Peter's sleeping when Dick hears it. He can't sleep due to the discomforts of his Heat. It's a hot night and he gets up to open the window. As soon as he does he hears Toivo’s call. A low-frequency rumble asking something, just like that time he wanted to greet Dick with a temple rub. Dick almost answers on instinct. He manages to hold back but he knows the call is for him. 

“I wonder what happened to her…” 

Dick jerks when Peter speaks. “To whom?” 

“His Main. He's calling for his Main.” Peter gets up and wraps his arms around his midriff. He smells happy and content, kissing Dick's neck. “Can't sleep?” 

“No. It's the Heat…” Dick explains redundantly. 

“Come back to bed, sweetheart. I'll knot you.” 

“How do you know he's calling for his Main and not his mate?” 

“Different sounds.” 

“Will I be your Main when you are made Patriarch?” 

“Oh, I'd love that. But it's up to you. You'd have to challenge Malicia. She's the current Main. She's a nasty fighter but I'm sure you could take her if you put your mind to it. I have faith in you, babe.” Peter purrs as if he truly enjoys the thought of Dick fighting Malicia for the position. Dick's not all that interested. He doesn't want to rely on fighting skills to gain power in life. Peter leads him back to bed to lay down. 

“I want to siphon you,” Dick says. 

“I've told you―“ 

“So _ask them_ for permission.” 

Peter swallows audibly. For a beat, there's a hint of fear in his scent. Then he smiles. “Okay. I'll ask again. If you really want that, I'll ask.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, do comment. I live for that shit. <3


	6. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is told something that hits too close to home and it leads to him making a choice. Unbeknownst him, things are happening under the surface that will affect his life greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING: Original character deaths!** I'm sorry, this is a spoiler and all, but people will die in this chapter.
> 
> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### Tragedy Strikes

The woman blocks his way when he turns a corner. He could have smelled her in advance if he hadn't been stuck with his head in the clouds, thinking of Peter who left him this morning. He has the usual work route he walks if nobody's booked him in advance, stopping to chat with business owners and other people, checking if they've heard anyone in need of his service. Often as not he's approached by people asking ‘Excuse me, are you the reader?’

That's not this woman's motive and he knows it. He smiles pleasantly and nods a greeting. “Malicia.”

He smells somebody behind him and turns his head, trying to hide his fear and nerves behind his smile. He can smell the close relation to Peter on the man blocking the alley behind him, more closely related than the woman in front. The man reeks of pain one can’t see from how he moves. He’s maybe double Peter’s age. “Ah. The father, I presume? You must pardon me, Sir, Peter hasn’t told me your name.”

The man flares the same brilliant blue as Peter. It’s strange how both Peter’s father, presumably the Patriarch, and Malicia have scents close to Peter’s but only one of them smells good to him. Aside from the pain, the Patriarch smells wonderful, _almost_ as good as Peter himself. But Malicia’s scent makes him want to curl his nose in disgust.

“Peter has asked to mate you and have you join the pack,” the Patriarch informs him and stops two strides away. Dick puts his hands in his pockets to hide how he claws. They may be short but they’re sharp and often come as a surprise to people.

“I see.”

Malicia strolls towards him and he withholds a growl, instead he licks his lips in lazy submission, not combining it with the hunched posture or bent head he probably should, turning his head back towards Malicia and trusting his nose and ears to tell him if the Patriarch moves closer. Malicia stops from the same distance as the Patriarch. They’re both mated but not to each other, which he finds interesting. “We came here to check you out and scent you, but I see now it’s a waste of time.”

“Peter says he’s a reader and could be useful. We can fix the scent thing,” the Patriarch points out.

Malicia snorts. She’s a beautiful, if hard-looking woman with cold eyes. “He’s weak and he’ll die within a couple of years, Laurent. He’s chronically depressed.”

Dick smiles more broadly, teething his canines and flaring from the rage that wells up at the easy dismissal. He hates being seen as weak. “Oh dear. Aren’t you a charmer? I can assure you, I’m quite alright. I was born without a scent but I’ve never been depressed.”

Malicia narrows her eyes.

The Patriarch, Laurent, speaks up. “I, for one, came to scent him so that’s what I’m going to do.” Dick turns his head so he can see the man again. Laurent sucks in a breath when he spots Dick’s red-eyed flare. His general aura goes from disinterested to appreciative. Dick bends his neck to invite the scenting and Laurent closes the distance to put his nose behind Dick’s ear. Dick’s heart beats a lot faster and he almost purrs. Laurent certainly has the same effect on him as Peter, despite anger and fear. “I stand by my point, Malicia. The scent thing can be fixed. And look at his eyes! Imagine the kits he’d have.”

Malicia’s scent sours along with her mood. “I’m not bonding with inferior Omegas just because you want to have a pissing contest with Aiden about who can produce the most red-eyed offspring.” Laurent opens his mouth to respond but Malicia growls threateningly and he backs away with head lowered, licking his lips in submission. There’s no question about who’s the real power in the pack. Malicia advances slowly, Laurent withdrawing further with every step she takes, until she’s nearly chest to chest Dick. “Let’s get this straight. Peter may be in line to become the Patriarch, but if you think that means he'll be allowed to make you part of the pack, think again. You'll never be part of my pack. Never. And that's final.”

“Oh dear. And I've always dreamed of forever being stuck in the gutter just like you. Whatever _shall_ I do with myself now that my dreams are being crushed?” Dick says with a condescending lopsided smirk.

Malicia growls and pulls a knife. Dick's got his hand up gripping her throat digging his claws in the moment she moves. He feels the sting of the knife tip biting his belly, pulse skyrocketing. Both freeze before they can do severe injury to each other, but both draw blood. “Do beware, woman. I defend myself,” Dick tells her with his lopsided smirk in place and fear threatening to make his gut turn. His flare is so bright it reflects on her cheeks and forehead despite the daylight.

At the same time Laurent hisses “ _Peter’s bond, Malicia! Think about the bond_!”

“You might be able to fool the others, but not me. I know. You’re flawed beyond repair. Your days are numbered and I won’t have to lift a finger to make it happen. You won’t ever be able to form a permanent bond. It’ll be useless for anyone to even try. There’s no scent to siphon. No scent to entice anyone to even try. And every time Peter lets your bond fade, it kills you little by little. Literally,” Malicia hisses in a whispered voice too quiet for Laurent to hear and lowers her knife. She moves to step away but halts when Dick doesn’t immediately let go of her throat. For a beat he considers digging his claws in deeper, ripping her throat out. He would, had she not been fucking Packrunning trash. He’s still not sure of the exact number of the Hale pack but he’d have one witness, and 80-100 determined foes trying to kill him if he did.

He lets go. “I guess we’ll see about that,” he offers with a mock-friendly smile.

Malicia backs up, making a gesture to Laurent to follow as she withdraws. The last thing Dick hears as they turn the corner is Laurent saying “He doesn’t seem weak to me,” and Malicia growling for an answer.

Dick stands still for a long time, waiting for something to happen, for them to return. Then suddenly he’s hit with a wave of nausea. Tears sting his eyes. The words ‘flawed beyond repair’ and ‘You won’t ever be able to form a permanent bond’ ring in his head, echoing his worst fears. His gut keeps turning, threatening to make him throw up. His throat constricts. The need to curl into a ball and cry is starting to get overwhelming. He can’t do it in public or he might draw people with bad intentions towards him. He turns and runs toward safety.

* * *

He’d intended to go home. He swears that was where he was heading. And yet, here he is, outside the European pack’s door. He rubs his hands on his pant legs to get the nervous sweat off and opens the door carefully without knocking. It’s a sign that at least three of them are home that the door isn’t locked. He hears voices from the kitchen.

“If we put off moving for two years we can afford to send Richard to college for at least a year.”

“Yes, but that'll virtually make Henry a prisoner up here for two years.”

“Don't worry about me. It's more important that you youngsters make a future for yourselves.”

“If we sell off our stash we won't have to choose. Not with today's black market prices. The apartment we found we'll be free in three months. We'd be able to get it as well as pay for the first year of Dick's education.”

“Yes, but―“

Toivo interrupts. “Blood.”

Dick's barely snuck halfway through the door when he's detected by Toivo’s keen nose picking up on the shallow knife wound on his belly. There’s a scraping of chairs from the kitchen then Toivo and Klaus emerge, Toivo running as soon as he lays eyes on Dick. Dick’s pulled inside, hoisted up in a bridal carry and carried towards a bedroom. Toivo’s chest vibrates with a soothing rumble at the same time as he’s looking down at Dick with concerned eyes, reeking of distress. He puts Dick down carefully on the bed and pulls the shirt up to inspect the damage. His soothing bass rumble gets louder. “Hurt,” he states.

Dick tries to sit up and to say he’s fine, but Toivo pushes him down with a hand on his chest and instead of words the first sob wracks his body. It’s like opening a floodgate. He’s aware of Henry, Klaus, and Murph joining them, aware of being held, getting his shirts removed and wound tended, but only barely. He cries like he hasn’t cried in front of anyone since he was six.

When he finally starts calming down he’s got his face smushed into Henry’s neck and Toivo is spooning him. Murph and Klaus sit on the bed. Henry’s chest vibrates with a soothing rumble. Henry notes that Dick’s coming back to them. “Did Peter do this?” he asks. It’s a logical assumption since he still smells strongly of Peter and they haven’t seen him for nearly a week.

“No.”

“Who?” Toivo asks, voice hard.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Dick says conveying finality to override the protective ire of the Alpha. He doesn’t want to risk them having a conflict with the Hale pack. “It’s not that bad. Please, leave it be.”

They do, but they don’t leave him. He remains surrounded by them and their soothing presence until he falls asleep from mental exhaustion.

When he wakes up it's dark and he’s still bracketed between the now sleeping Toivo and Henry. He hasn’t felt this safe while showing weakness since he was a little kit. He has this pressing need to keep this safety. It’s not really a conscious decision to roll over and rub his nose over Henry’s ear gland, then lick at the secretion and start siphoning. It wakes Henry up, but this time he doesn’t caution Dick to stop. One thing leads to another and by the time Henry finally enters him Dick’s never wanted a knot as badly as he wants Henry’s. Toivo lies naked beside them rumbling a constant approval nuzzling them and caressing both of them. Everything is fuzzy for Dick. He’s sky high, entranced and drifting.

He’s always preferred to have sex in the dark. He loves how flares light the skin where he or his partner is looking, stronger the more arousal takes over. This time their bodies are highlighted in three colours - red, yellow, and green. It’s beautiful. When Henry’s knot dies down Toivo takes over. There’s some growling amongst the Alphas until Toivo puts on a condom. Dick doesn’t care if they use condoms or not, he keeps himself presented, welcoming either of them to knot him. When they’re not rubbing their glands against him, milking his neck gland or kissing and licking, they siphon each other. Dick wonders what it's like to have someone siphon you but doesn't dare to ask for it in case they say no. Malicia’s words echoing his own doubts are still too fresh - there's nothing to entice them to siphon him. He can no longer discern individual scents. All three of them smell home and safe and his. When he falls asleep again, siphon-stoned out of his head and happy, Toivo’s still inside of him.

* * *

“I should have asked you if you were sure before I let you siphon me yesterday. Instead, I’ll ask you now - any regrets? If so I hope you’ll stick around to make a soft fade of your new bonds,” Henry says, sitting beside him in bed and stroking his hair when he wakes up in the morning. Dick purrs and pushes into the touch.

“No regrets,” he assures Henry. His Patriarch. His _mate_. Henry smells mated now which can only mean one thing. Dick finds himself happy about it. Toivo’s scent clinging to them also smells slightly different. Dick’s got two mates and feels like having a giggle-fit about it. “What’s a soft fade?”

“Sticking around without reaffirming the bond but assuring us everything’s alright with small touches and sounds until the bond has faded. It makes the difference between sadness and hard grief.”

“I don’t ever want these bonds to fade,” Dick tells him and rolls to put his head in Henry’s lap, their purrs synchronizing. “You said something a while back that I’ve been thinking of… what’s congenital depression?”

Henry’s warm eyes crinkle at the corners as his bushy moustache curves into a smile. “When an Omega undergoes hardship during pregnancy, in rare instances the baby will be hit by depression from being born. Unless the parents manage to cure that, the baby rarely lives past one year of age. That’s why I find you so extraordinary, dear.”

“Like reverse postpartum depression?”

“Yes.”

“When I came here yesterday, were you discussing sending me to college?”

“Indeed, we were.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“You’ve been a siderunner to us for―”

“What’s a siderunner?”

Henry chuckles at Dick’s inquisitiveness. “An independent individual who belongs to the pack.”

“Belongs…?” Dick asks suspiciously, making Henry laugh.

“Somebody we care as deeply for as we do for core members, that keeps the pack’s interest in mind at least partially, while retaining full independence.”

That doesn’t sound so bad. “But I _am_ a core member now, right?”

“You are,” Henry confirms.

“Does that make me a Main?” Dick asks wrinkling his nose.

Henry withholds an amused chortle at Dick’s reluctance, eyes twinkling. “It does, since you’re the only Omega in the pack. But don’t worry, kit. We’re in no rush having you fill those shoes. You focus on getting that education you want, then when that’s done we’ll have a discussion of where to go from there. Maybe you’ll no longer be the only Omega in the pack? Who the Main is, is usually determined during Omega bonding sex anyway.”

“Not through fighting?”

Henry gets a sad look on his face. “Sometimes. It depends on the pack. Where Murph came from it did. He does not like to talk about his former pack. But if you run into packs where members fear each other, then beware.”

Dick thinks of the Hale pack. About Laurent’s fear, about Peter’s fear when Dick told him to ask for permission, Peter saying he had to be hard or… He never did define the consequences.

“You and I, we are mated now?”

“We are. And it’s making this old man’s heart sing with joy.”

Dick grins. “Mine too.” It’s not a lie.

* * *

Dick doesn’t officially move in, he just stops going home. He always did like spending the evenings here anyway. It’s the music. At a minimum Henry plucks on guitar, at the most, they all sing and play their instruments. Dick’s the one to involve dancing. It’s an impulse to get up and dance one night and it makes Ángel join him. All of them enjoy dancing (though Henry can’t dance due to his leg) and the living room is rearranged to make an open space for the purpose. When Dick gets horny he deep-purrs like an Alpha since they can’t smell him getting slick. He only needs to do it for a few seconds before they pick up on its meaning and start courting him for the honour of getting to knot him. Most often it’s Toivo since they’re mated. But not always and both Toivo and Henry are okay with that.

Henry had told him that he didn’t have much sex drive left. A couple of months ago that would have sounded great, but with the feelings Dick’s developed for the old man, it’s not. Dick wants Henry, wants to make love to him. Since he’s often the first one to come home in the afternoon he starts coaxing Henry to take him. He drops all pretences and dignity, puts on a show while stripping out of his clothes, getting to all fours on the floor in front of Henry, presenting and fingering himself until he’s driven Henry downright feral with want. Age difference isn’t really something people are bothered by. Scent is the most important thing. That, and sex drive. You don’t get turned on by a Juvie, and neither by someone who has lost their drive - everything between that is fair game. Dick’s rapidly awakening Henry’s sex drive to the point where it changes Henry’s scent with reactivated hormones. Post-coitally they always talk, Dick asking questions and Henry answering like the well of knowledge and experience he is. A lot of Dick’s questions revolve around primal sounds. Dick learns the difference between the sound one makes to placate a mate and a Patriarch. Up until now, he’d thought the Patriarch sound was the one for a mate since he’s heard it so many times. Turns out the Conservatives have adopted the sound to placate a Patriarch to also entail their mate. It makes sense since they only mate with one person and as such, any sound that for Packrunners are directed at a Main or Patriarch has come to be mate-sounds for monogamous couples.

They all agree to move to the apartment in the better part of town and put Dick’s college education on hold for a year or two, but Dick starts looking into how to get a scholarship. He believes he’ll be able to fabricate whatever documents he needs and the thought of paying Peter, and benefitting Malicia by doing so, irks him. He’ll get into college without Peter’s help. He starts bringing Henry the money he gets to pool it into the mutual funds. He trusts them not to cheat him. They’d been talking about paying for his education unprompted for crying out loud.

When his Heat is nearing he starts getting restless. He paces and his leg jumps up and down when he’s sitting still. It worries the pack, Toivo mostly who starts smelling more and more distressed until he suddenly one evening starts making that pitiful clucking sound Peter had made when Dick attacked him while they were knotted. Dick stops dead in his track and turns to stare at Toivo who’s currently sitting on a chair sewing, repairing something while watching him worriedly. “What does that mean?”

Henry’s the one to answer. “He thinks you have wanderlust, dear. He feels rejected. It’s the sound we Alphas will do if we think our mate is leaving us.”

Dick’s by Toivo in a few strides, straddling him and rubbing his temples against him (uselessly) while cooing comfortingly. “I’m not leaving you, Toi. It’s just that my Heat’s coming up, and―”

“We understand if you want to spend it with your other mate, Richard. It’s not common to have mates outside of a pack, but we’re not trying to get in the way of the heart,” Henry says.

Dick turns on Toivo’s lap so he can look at Henry. “I don’t want to go to him. I want to spend my Heat with you. But he always finds me on my work route and as soon as I’m immersed in his scent I crumble.”

“Stay home,” Toivo tells him, calming down.

“You don’t have to work. We’re fully able to provide for you and several others without any help. You don’t want him to find you, you stay here until after your Heat,” Henry says.

So Dick stays. It is by far the most rewarding Heat he’s ever had. Discomforts of Heat are reduced by a knot pushing on certain points inside of you, as well as by scent. Having five Alphas take turns is indescribable. As an added bonus Alphas in Rut, he learns, keep their knot longer and smells a lot stronger. They experience similar discomforts as Omegas, get more aggressive and less hungry. They also help each other out. Maybe it’s his Heat affecting him but he thinks Alpha on Alpha sex might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He doesn’t have to spend much time un-knotted. Life is good.

* * *

They’re a mere month away from moving. Dick’s spent two Heats with them, avoiding Peter. He’s happier than ever before and hasn’t been back to his apartment once. Currently, he’s reading the Conservative scripture to a gathering of British refugees in the outskirts of the slum. Most houses around here are bombed out ruins and in his state of contentment, Dick marvels at the beauty of it. People have made their homes here, turning ruins into cozy livable places while greenery and wildlife have overtaken what destitute humans can’t. There are trees, bushes, flowers breaking through concrete, covering metal and stone. Birds sing and different animals can be seen scurrying by.

Suddenly there’s a smattering sound from far away and the stinging smell of fear fills the room. “What’s that?” Dick asks in confusion.

“Machine gun,” a one-armed Alpha answers worriedly and makes his way to the door, the others either cowering in the back or going for the door to stare worriedly in the direction of the sound. There are other bangs heard, non-smattered ones. “Handguns,” the Alpha adds unprompted. Dick’s heard that noise before, unlike the machine gun. It’s rare. Guns are strictly prohibited, very difficult to obtain, and _very_ expensive if you manage to find an arms dealer. The punishments for breaking gun laws are severe and not worth risking.

Dick makes his way to join the folks that have gathered at the door. That’s when he hears it.

His pack’s distress call.

He doesn’t even think before he takes off running in the direction of the gunfire. It’s coming from far away, from the direction of home. Fear courses through his veins, hammers him with urgency. He runs as fast as he can until every limb screams from exertion. The closer he gets the fewer people are out and about. The sound of firearms quiets down and so does the distress call.

The silence is more frightening than gunfire and the cry for help. There’s only one reason to stop calling out. Dick wants to call for them, brain denying the reason. He keeps quiet.

He's nearly at home when he slows to a walk. The streets are empty and he can smell blood. Lots of it. He can also smell the Hales.

He turns a corner to come upon his first body. It's a Hale, dead from a gunshot to the chest. Then another one, and another. By the time he sees the first live one he's counted 20 dead. The Alpha stands over a body Dick recognizes and it makes him want to howl in pain to see Klaus lying there with his throat slit. Instead he flares. “Is Peter around?” he asks levelly.

The Alpha scents in his direction then gesture with his head. “Inside.”

Dick passes him with trepidation, gut churning. He passes a few more dead, sees a couple of wounded being tended in a dead end alley, and meets other Hales with cold eyes standing guard. They all reek of pain, fear, and sorrow, and let him pass with a look at his red eyes. Murph lies dead just outside of the entry from the street, Ángel on the second floor in the staircase. There’s a Hale guard outside of the entry to the apartment, the door is missing. Now Dick can smell Peter.

Dick’s walking in a daze, brain not yet ready to deal with the death of his pack. The guard stops him from entering. “You can’t go in here.”

“Oh? I was told Peter would be here. I must have been mistaken. Could you please give me directions to where to find him?”

“Let him in, Joe,” Peter’s voice says from the apartment.

The guard steps aside to let him pass.

Peter is standing in the middle of the living room, face hard and chest heaving. He’s bleeding from several places from parallel gashes that have cut through his clothes. Claw marks, Dick realises. There are two big black bags at his feet. A couple of Juvies are turning the apartment upside down looking for valuables and who knows what. Dick sees one of them find the money stash and looks away when he gets the impulse to attack. Henry lies dead by a window surrounded by bullet shells, a scent of metal and what Dick believes must be gunpowder around him. He must have been the one firing the machine gun, but no weapon is within sight. Toivo lies not far from Peter. Dick walks up to Toivo’s body and looks down, blinking, not really comprehending what he’s seeing at first. It looks like Toivo’s face is painted with the markings of a wolf. His cheekbones are sharper and his mouth lax and open, showing the longest fangs Dick’s ever seen, both an upper and a lower pair. Toivo’s hands bear long, curved, bloodied claws. It takes a moment for Dick to grasp that Toivo’s face isn’t painted, but covered in short fur.

“How am I supposed to pay you for college now that you’ve stolen all my money, Peter?” Dick asks. He has a lump in his throat and a wail of sorrow threatening to rip free, but his voice comes out disinterested and blasé. There’s blood on the floor and he’s standing in it.

“You should have hitched your wagon to a stronger pack if you wanted your assets safe,” Peter growls.

Dick looks up and turns to look at him. “A stronger pack? Pardon my confusion, but I believe I counted 38 dead or wounded on my way here. They were only five. Help me do the math, would you?”

“If they hadn’t been armed with firearms―”

“I’m convinced you could have taken them easily, yes. 50 or so against 5. Seems like fair odds to you, I’m sure.”

Peter’s mouth is a thin line of held back rage when he looks at Dick. Underneath it, Dick can smell the pain and the sorrow. “Did you know about their stash of firearms?”

A faint memory of the conversation he’d overheard the day he’d met Malicia springs to mind. ‘ _If we sell off our stash we won't have to choose. Not with today's black market prices…_ ’ He shakes his head. “No.”

Peter walks up to him almost putting them nose to nose. “Because it’s you, I’m gonna pretend I believe you,” he growls.

Dick really should lick his lips placatingly and avert his face. Instead, he growls and shows his teeth. Peter’s blue flare gets stronger but he doesn’t move.

“Boss, the cops are here,” Somebody interrupts from the doorway.

Peter jerks back and turns on his heel. “Good. Tell them we’ll be down in a minute.” He goes to the big bags, opens one, takes a gun out, sniffs it to see if it’s been fired, then hides it under his jacket in the back of his jeans. He closes the bag again but Dick had gotten a glimpse of the assortment of firearms inside. Loads of them. “Derek! Take the other bag,” he barks at one of the Juvies and hoists one of the bags himself. He turns towards Dick. “You. Come with me,” he orders.

There is no other choice but to follow Peter and the Juvie back outside. Now there are two cop cars and a pyre truck outside. A couple of Hales are working on loading the dead onto the truck that will take them to the pyre. Peter gestures for Dick to stop, then walks up to one of the waiting police officers and dumps the bag with the guns at his feet. The Juvie, Derek, does the same and then withdraws. “This is all of it. The arms dealers have all mysteriously died. The flu, by my guess,” Peter tells the highest ranking policeman while another cop opens the bags to quickly inspect the haul with a low whistle.

“The flu, huh? And I take it these guys also died of the mystery flu?” The officer asks and gestures towards the bodies being loaded onto the pyre truck.

“Mhm,” Peter agrees coldly.

“Sounds about right in my book. Makes for quick paperwork. Are you sure this is all?”

Peter’s jaws clenches. “Yes. My people went through both their apartment and their storage thoroughly. That’s where they contracted the _flu_. Would that be all?”

“Yep. As always, nice doing business with you.” The officer gives Peter a mocking salute and goes to get back in his car where the bags of guns have already been loaded by another cop.

Peter stands looking after the cop cars as they drive away, his fists clenching and unclenching by his side. When they’re gone he turns and strides towards Dick with the determination of a charging bull. Dick gets a hand on his chest and is pushed up against the wall. “I lost a lot of family here today, Richard. A lot of us are angry and gunning for revenge. So you stand still and let me mark you up so nobody mistakes you for one of _them_ ,” he orders.

It’s unfair that he still smells as good as he does, that Dick still likes his scent despite the emotions raging within him right now. How can something smell good and be nauseating at the same time? He remains still and lets Peter mark him. It's not a choice if he wants to live. He'd been too late. They're all dead and he would have been too if he'd been on time.

“They'll be burned at the pyre like everyone else. There's nothing left for you here so don't bother to come back. Now go,” Peter tells him and backs away from him.

“So thoughtful,” Dick says sarcastically and starts walking away. He doesn’t go far. He turns a corner and presses himself against the wall. His legs threaten to buckle, his head spins and his pulse rushes in his ears. He stands still trying to shake the dizzy spell before he keeps moving. That’s when he sees them.

Further up the alley he’s in, a Hale is in the process of trying to lift a dead person from the ground. Out of fucking nowhere, a man with dark glasses materializes behind the Hale. He must have been hidden nearby, but he moves so fast Dick misses where. He puts a hand over the Hale’s mouth and nose to prevent him from crying out, pulls him upright and bites him in the neck. It’s a quick bite without visible fangs. It doesn’t even seem to break the skin but the Hale stops struggling almost immediately and goes lax.

Dick recognizes the stranger. It’s ‘Agent Porter’, or ‘Dmitri Krushnic’ like the Europeans called him. No matter how much he tries he can’t catch the man’s scent. He should have been able to detect the weirdness of it, but - nothing. Not even the Alpha marker. He must be using some exceptionally strong scent blockers. Dick’s heart is beating overtime. He can’t help to think about the time ‘Porter’ was arrested. There had been a bank robbery the cop had told him and Dick now wonders if ‘Porter’ had been involved. This guy definitely isn’t law enforcement.

Porter holds the Hale up until he’s completely lax and his scent turns happy and content, then Porter bites his neck again―still without visible fangs―and holds his lips sealed around the bite. The Hale turns paler and paler, lips turning blue and eyes falling shut. Then - he dies. Dick smells the shift. Porter eases his mouth off the neck, licks some blood off it, and drops the Hale. Dick stares at the bared neck of the dead man. Not a visible scratch. The Europeans’ tales come to life before his eyes. _How how how?_

He couldn’t run if he wanted too. He’s never been frozen in place from fear before. He is now. It’s probably the jumble of grief, anger, confusion, and hopelessness inside of him that makes him stand in place when Porter looks right at him. He can see the glow of a whitish flare through the sunglasses and _fuck fuck fuck_ he shouldn’t still be flaring himself. But he is. He’s visible as the light of day where he stands staring with eyes like red beacons.

Porter lifts his head and scents in his direction. He leaps over the two dead bodies and comes running. Dick gets a large hand in the middle of his chest, pinning him in place to the wall just like Peter had done. Porter leans in opening his mouth. This time Dick sees it. Two thin, snake-like fangs on either side of Porter’s two front teeth. They extend outward with drops of liquid forming at their tips. Dick almost welcomes it. It looked like such a pleasant way to go, what with the Hale’s scent shifting to joy before he went.

Almost.

“The cops got the guns already, Krushnic. They left with them about 5 minutes ago,” Dick says quietly, shocked that he sounds so level. Porter halts and closes his mouth, meeting his gaze. “The leader gave them everything but one gun that he hid in the back of his jeans. They took all our money. In the next alley parallel with this one, there are three wounded men guarded by one Alpha. I’d much rather there were four dead.”

Porter’s lips curve upward just the slightest. Even this close Dick can barely smell him. He only gets the faint smells of hair, skin, and fabric. But the hair and skin bear no personal scent just like Dick’s doesn’t. Porter’s nostrils flare as he scents Dick again. “Not good, mating in two packs, pretty little Omega,” he says as quietly as Dick had. Then he pushes off and turns the corner, leaving Dick to nearly sag in relief.

He stays in place for several minutes before he leaves. When he passes the alley he pointed out to Porter, there are four corpses in it.

The next day the newspapers tell of a strange virus that has killed approximately 40 people in the slums, as well as 4 cops that had come to investigate it. A group of newly arrived refugees from Croatia are blamed for bringing the virus that gets the name ‘the Croatoan virus’. The poor refugees are killed by worried people and there are no further reports of any outbreaks. The cries of mourning from the Hale pack can be heard through the open window of Dick’s old apartment. Nobody has moved in while he’s been gone and it’s probably to do with how Peter at some point has gone there and marked the apartment up thoroughly.

Dick’s barely aware of any of it. Henry had once asked him to do a ‘soft fade’ of their bond if Dick wanted to leave. For the first time in his life, Dick’s experiencing a ‘hard fade’. Ironic as it may be, Peter marking him and the apartment up might be the only thing that keeps Dick breathing…

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted shortly. I'll be going out of town and might not be able to post anything more this week.


	7. A New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is struggling in the wake of his loss. He gets the answer to why it happened. It's not enough. He needs to get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This type of depression is what hit Dean, but took Dean much longer to recuperate from. In part, the siphoning might be a factor for Dick's quick recuperation. It's also a matter of how strong the Destiel bond was, and how much inner strength and core will to live Dick has. But what we're about to see is why Dick's lack of scent stresses Dean out so much.
> 
> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### The Darkest Hour

He takes a sharp breath. The air slowly seeps out of him in an extended exhale until his lungs are empty.

_thu-thump_ ……………… _thu-thump_ ………….

Too long time passes between each heartbeat. He’s cold, but not feeling it. His body simply doesn’t warm up properly.

_thu-thump_ ……………… _thu-thump_ ………….

Another sharp breath is taken when his body remembers it has to breathe. Time is lost to him.

_thu-thump_ ……………… _thu-thump_ ………….

Somebody manhandles his lax body into a sitting position, leans him against their warm, broad chest and pushes a rubber straw into his mouth, holds up a sport-water bottle to flood his mouth with water. He drinks reflexively, feeling a comforting rumble against his back.

_thu-thump_ ……………… _thu-thump_ ………….

His mind barely processes scents and sounds outside of him. Barely produces any discernible thoughts. But when it does, it shows him Henry and Toivo dead on repeat.

_thu-thump_ ……………… _thu-thump_ ………….

He feels no hunger or thirst. No need to relieve himself. His body’s nearly shut down completely.

_thu-thump_ ……………… _thu-thump_ ………….

A temple is being rubbed against him, a finger smears secretion under his nose. He’s laid down again and held. The comforting breastbone rumble never lets up.

* * *

It’s hard to tell how long Dick’s lost to the world. The body and mind are more closely connected than he’d ever known. Seeing his mates dead made his bond to them fade within two days, eradicated by the mourning. He’d thought he’d been scentless before but now even the Omega marker faded into non-existence. He can’t tell for how long he’s been ‘out’. Definitely for weeks, yet there’s no indication of a Heat oncoming. His body simply… stopped.

He’d be dead if it wasn’t for the Alpha who came and went, who marked him up obsessively, who force-fed him with pre-chewed food, made him drink, and kept him warm. Sometimes he’d heard voices. People who came and went. Orders doled out with a hard voice, serious discussions. He couldn’t make sense of the words. Didn’t try.

_thu-thump_ ………… _thu-thump_ …… _thu-thump_... _thu-thump_ , _thu-thump_.

The Alphas determined care does pay off in the end. Dick’s heartbeat returns to normal, his breathing levels out, his senses return - and when they do, everything is Peter.

Peter’s the one who has cared for him, who’s kept marking him, swathing him in the scent of belonging. Who has cooed in concern and rumbled his comfort, who’s seen to that he didn’t starve or freeze to death. Who, even now in his sleep, rumbles comfortingly and holds him so his nose is pressed onto the pulse point of Peter’s neck. He’s naked, giving him as much warm skin-to-skin contact as possible.

Dick’s not dumb enough not to understand it’s what saved his life. He had a third mate.

Carefully he frees himself and goes to the bathroom to relieve himself. It takes time. He pisses like a horse and his poop is rock hard. Despite that Peter’s still sleeping an exhausted sleep when he comes back from the bathroom. This time Dick doesn’t ask for permission. He’s not about to let ‘them’ win. Not about to let Malicia win. He lies down beside Peter, rubs his nose against the ear gland, licks and starts siphoning. Peter’s also steepled in mourning as well as being in some physical pain. Dick lifts the blanket to look at Peter’s body. The gashes Toivo’s claws had made are nearly healed. It’s definitely been weeks.

He keeps siphoning, the stoned/high feeling starting to take over, the urge for more escalating. He’s beginning to get hard and produce slick. He rubs himself against Peter, sealing his lips over his ear gland, siphoning shamelessly.

Peter wakes up but doesn’t stop Dick from doing what he’s doing. Instead he hugs him close and rubs himself against Dick’s temple and neck, marking himself up (uselessly, needlessly, pointlessly). Dick can feel Peter get hard. He rolls on top of the Alpha and sinks down on his dick, but he’s too weak, too lethargic to do more than grind slowly. Peter takes over, grabs his hips and fucks him until they’re properly knotted. Dick’s driftingly aware that this is pure bonding sex and has nothing to do with lust in any way. The need is strong, but the scent of arousal minimal.

It’s not until two days later actual lust comes back to Dick. During these days they don’t speak a single word to each other. They mark each other (Yes, Dick marks Peter too, as pointlessly as it is.), eat, drink, have sex, and sleep. Hales come and go, knocking at the door and have short conversations with Peter, but Peter and Dick don’t speak. Peter lets him siphon as much as he wants, and he always detects that Peter is nervous and a little afraid when he does. Dick can once again smell his own Omega marker and that coincides with when he starts getting turned on for real. It changes the sex. Adds kisses and another kind of desperation.

Dick starts growling if anyone puts a foot inside of the door and Peter’s visitors shy away to remain on the other side. The Juvie, Derek, is the most frequent visitor. One day he tells Peter Malicia requests his presence. Dick drops fangs, claws, flares and lunges for Derek with a roar. Peter catches him and holds him back. “You heard Richard. The answer is no.”

It takes another two weeks for Dick’s Heat to return. He’s more animal than human, fangs dropped and flaring most of the time. It doesn’t even hurt after a while, as if his jaws and bone structure have settled. Laurent comes to visit while Dick’s in Heat. He wants Peter to come home because Malicia is furious. He smells like fear.

“I’ll come when I’m good and ready,” Peter answers. They’re naked in bed, but not knotted at the moment.

“I thought you might say that. I brought you both food. I know Derek’s been dropping off supplies but he’s a bit afraid of Richard so I fear he doesn’t come often enough. Can I come in?” He directs the last question to Dick.

Dick rolls over onto all fours, putting his ass up, wiggling it while slick runs down his leg. He looks over his shoulder. “If you know how to use that knot, you can. Your son’s stamina isn’t infinite,” he says, voice rough with disuse.

Peter bursts out laughing and Laurent’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Sorry, dad. He’s in Heat.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before Laurent steps into the apartment, drops the bags he’s brought, and closes the door behind himself. The fear in his scent is traded for arousal and he deep-purrs appreciatively. To this day, Peter’s never deep-purred for him. Laurent kicks his shoes off and unbuckles his belt, then goes down to stand on his knees behind Dick.

Peter sniggers. “Malicia and Nadia are not going to like this.”

“How will they know? It’s not like they’re gonna be able to smell it on me,” Laurent says as he takes his dick out, jerks it a couple of times to get it hard, puts a condom on and pushes in. It’s a valid point that Dick vows to remember.

Dick keens a purr into the pillow and Peter scoots closer to kiss his shoulder and pet his sweat-matted hair, unbothered by his dad taking the liberties Dick offered.

Laurent stays for two days, tag-teaming with Peter and Dick’s happy about it. Laurent doesn’t protest when Dick siphons him without asking either. Doing it tells Dick that Laurent is slowly dying from some sort of disease, cancer perhaps? But no. Something similar, more subtle, non-contagious. That’s where his chronic pain is coming from. As long as it isn’t contagious, Dick isn’t bothered. The two Alphas siphon each other too and Peter’s scent of mourning fades somewhat when they do.

“Did you know about the guns?” Laurent asks when he’s knotted together with Dick and Peter’s up preparing food and drink for all of them.

There’s no use in lying. “I overheard them talking about selling off their stash to pay for my college education. But I had no idea what stash they were talking about, nor did I ask.”

“I told you he didn’t know, dad,” Peter grumbles while peeling potatoes on a stool by the wood-burning stove.

“How many of your pack did they kill?” Dick asks drowsily, bodily content but empty on the inside.

“About a third,” Laurent answers.

“Good,” Dick answers with a smirk. He can smell that it hurts the Alphas but is out of fucks to give.

“I’m sorry you got involved in this, Richard. If you’re feeling guilty, thinking what happened has anything to do with you - don’t. Peter has been stressed out and jealous by your disappearance, but I’ve raised him well enough not to act out if an Omega chooses another mate. And with what happened with Malicia―”

Peter’s head snaps up to stare at them. “What happened with Malicia?”

“You didn’t hear? She declared that I would never be allowed to join the pack as long as she’s alive, no matter who’s Patriarch. Quite a charmer, isn’t she?” Dick purrs sarcastically.

“Fuck sake.” Peter gets up and starts pacing, reeking of distress. Dick doesn’t care.

“So why did you massacre my family?” he asks instead. Family. That’s what they’d become.

“We didn’t intend to kill them,” Laurent says. “They’d been selling guns. Not many, but enough to draw attention to themselves. We warned them to stop and to surrender what they had and we would leave them alone. We told them when we would come to get the guns and usually it’s a peaceful affair. We come as a large group to discourage violence. But your guys took the time to group into defence rather than surrender peacefully.” He combs through Dick’s hair soothingly as he talks with an aura of gentle sadness.

“Ten fucking dead before we even knew what was happening,” Peter chips in while pacing back and forth in the small room like a caged tiger.

“They were soldiers, you know?” Dick offers driftingly. “They didn’t come here as refugees, they came here escorting refugees and stayed. I never told them Malicia was the one to knife me―”

“Malicia did _what?_ ” Peter’s voice almost breaks into falsetto with outrage.

“Peter, calm down or go for a walk. We’ll talk about what happened with Malicia later. Right now I want your mate to understand what happened so he can get closure,” Laurent reprimands with a sharp voice. Peter makes a whining noise but goes back to the stool to aggressively peel potatoes. “Go on, Richard,” Laurent prompts with a much softer voice.

“I never told them, but I confess, I was rather… agitated, when I came to them afterwards. And I smelled of Peter still. I think they suspected him. I don’t know if that may have affected how they reacted to your offer. Still, I think you could have tolerated a little competition.”

“It’s not about competition. We don’t own guns and we don’t sell them,” Laurent explains. Dick had seen Peter take one, so he knows that to be a partial lie. On the other hand, Laurent might not be aware that his son had made himself a gun owner. “We have an agreement with another, much more powerful pack. We uphold the gun laws in the slums, keep the perfume smuggling in check, and a couple of other things. In return, they keep law enforcement off our backs as well as look out for pack interests in the government. Anytime we find arms dealers or perfume sellers we confiscate their wares and hand it over to the cops for destruction. It’s all very hush, hush. But this time something went wrong. The police must have had an insider or something because the transport was hit on the way back, all four cops dead and not a trace of the firearms.”

“How do you know?”

“They made enquiries with us.”

Dick’s lips curve upward in the corner. He thinks of ‘Agent Porter’ and is certain he himself is the ‘insider’ who gave away that the cops were transporting guns.

“Bottom line is, this did not happen because of you. And wherever you go from here I want you to know that. It’s not your burden to carry,” Laurent finishes. His knot is going down. Dick rolls his hips to stop that from happening just yet. The Patriarch takes the cue and thrusts a couple of times until he comes again, ensuring a couple of more minutes locked together.

“You’re a good man, Laurent,” Dick decides. He hates the Hales with all his heart. But he can’t hate Peter and his dad. Not completely. Even if he hates what they’re part of. “So there’s an even bigger pack than yours in the city?”

“Not bigger. Just more dangerous,” Peter answers. “Corporate trash. Too much money for their own good. They’re the ones who can make thousands jobless with a signature on the paper, poison lakes and drinking water to save money in their factories, you name it. The worst, most scary kind of predators, who have cops and military at their beck and call, can change laws as they see fit. I fucking hate them.”

“Then that’s the kind of predator I’ll be,” Dick vows quietly with a pleasant smile. He’s not sure if Peter heard. It doesn’t matter.

* * *

When his Heat finally breaks Dick’s got a goal. “Where are you going?” Peter asks when Dick washes thoroughly and gets dressed.

“To college,” Dick answers. He’s washed as much scent off himself as possible. If you come close enough you can discern both a mating bond and a pack bond on him, but since it’s not carried by a scent of his own, it’s very faint now that he’s scrubbed himself as clean as possible.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Peter worries.

“Yes.”

It’s the time of year when applications are reviewed and scholarships granted, and Dick’s got an idea. At first, he risks stealing a suit in an upscale shop near the business district. It doesn’t include Omega pants but it’ll have to do. He changes into it and hides his ordinary clothes behind a bush outside of campus, then takes tail on a bunch of students walking in. He follows them inside and spends the day doing recon. It’s tempting to go to the library and spend the day reading but that will get him nowhere. Instead, he locates the important rooms for him. Headmaster’s office, financial department, and so on. Makes note of the security and what windows leads where.

The night after that he breaks in via a third story window after the guard shift. He spends the night reading the college applications up for possible scholarships. He looks at all the paperwork. Two are already approved, lying in a pile for themselves. They’ve been stamped with a giant red stamp reading ‘`APPROVED`’. He searches through the office until he finds the stamp, locked in a drawer. Picking locks isn’t his speciality but he isn’t on much of a time limit. Twice the guard makes a round and he has to hide with his heart hammering. His scent doesn’t stick to things the same way normal people’s scent does and even with the faint bonds he has, the guard doesn’t find him.

Two nights later he comes back with a file containing a college application of his own, complete with false papers of education. If what he’s read about the process, the last applications were reviewed this evening and will go to the financial department tomorrow to be administered. He gets in the same way he did last time, goes to the drawer where the Approved-stamp is, puts a big ‘approved’ over his application, then locates the other applications. He switches his own for one in the middle randomly and gets out the way he came.

Peter’s sleeping when he gets home. Peter always sleeps here these days. Dick doesn’t crawl into bed with him right at once. Instead, he lights a candle and inspects the application he replaced with his own, just to see if he’s missed something. He reads through it and finds that his should do just fine. It’s not until he flips back to the first page where name and addresses and such are written that he notices it. The square. He hadn’t understood what the square was for when he filled in his own application. But now… He lifts the paper to his nose and sniffs. He clearly smells ‘healthy, male, Alpha’ on the square. It’s another type of signature, one that he can never put on paper himself since even his Omega marker will fade within an hour. It causes his heart to quicken nervously. If he’d known…

It doesn’t matter, he decides. If it doesn’t work this time he’ll try again next year.

A week later there’s a knock on his door and the mailman hands over a letter with the University’s logo in the corner. His hands are shaking as he opens it. He barely dares to breathe.

“`Congratulations, Mr. Richard Roman. You’re hereby approved a full scholarship to…`”

He whoops and fist pumps the air just as Peter comes up the stairs. Peter takes one look at Dick’s triumphant grin and starts making that pitiful clucking noise. He gets right away that Dick’s leaving him…

* * *

The whole summer has been spent collecting what he needs. He’s traded reading only for money, writing supplies, and preppy clothes. Peter helped him put together a wardrobe that would make him look like the rest of the rich folks he’s trying to blend in with. The closer to his departure they come, the more desperate Peter becomes when they have sex, the more often he makes the pitiful ‘please-don’t-leave-me’ clucking, and the more he reeks of mourning. He cries like a helpless kit the night before Dick leaves. It would be a lie to say Dick’s heart doesn’t break along with his. But their love is tainted by Toivo’s dead body dead at Peter’s feet. It’s tainted by Peter’s pack, and his inability to leave it. Dick kindly explains to Peter that he’s never coming back, and if he ever does, it’ll only be to kill Malicia. Peter’s defeated expression haunts him as much as the death of the European pack does.

* * *

The college has set him up in a shared dorm room. There is one bed on either side of the room and two desks by the wall separating them. They’ve got a closet each by the foot of the bed, but share toilets, showers, and kitchen with the rest of the people living on their floor. Every room gets to use the laundry room once a week on a rolling schedule. Their room has both a radiator and air conditioning. There are multiple electrical outlets, no mould, no draft, no cracks, good mattresses, two pillows each and a soft comforter. Dick’s unpacked and is currently cursing inwardly that he forgot to bring bedding when his new roommate walks in.

“Oooh. Well, well. This is a mix-up I don’t mind. Forgot to put your scent on your application, did you?” a leering, raspy, British voice says.

Dick sniffs the air before he turns around. The guy who just walked in smells really good despite the cigarette smell that clings to him. He's short and dark-haired and wears a smug smirk that Dick wants to wipe off with a swipe of his claws as he gives Dick a once over. “Pardon me?”

“They don't put Alphas and Omegas together, darling. But you can scuttle down to the expedition and they'll move you down one floor to the other Omegas, I'm sure.”

Dick has no interest in moving. He likes the view from the window. If they confused him for an Alpha because he’s male, so be it. He’s not leaving. “You must have quite a nose if you can smell I'm an Omega from there,” he says instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. It’s your pants.” He kicks the door shut, drops his bag in the middle of the floor and flops himself down on the opposite bed. “Unless it’s some kind of fashion statement? You want some Alpha on Alpha action and like to do some roleplaying? Each to their own, I suppose.”

No matter how good he smells Dick already hates him.

The guy puts his hands behind his head, pulls his knee up and hitches his other leg over it to dangle, staring unabashedly, and goes on talking. “Had a rough summer, did you?”

“Not particularly, no,” Dick answers and goes to fuss over his notebooks and pencils on the desk.

“So what’s your parents deal? Oil? Stocks? How did they afford to send you here?” the obnoxious short guy asks.

“I’m here on a scholarship.”

Short guy sniggers with a devious smirk spreading on his face. “Ooh. Somebody lied on their application, I see.”

Dick scowls at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Because they don’t hand out scholarships to scentless people, darling. And if you didn’t have a rough summer it means you were scentless before you applied.” Short guy looks way too smug for his own good.

“Why not?”

“Why waste money on dying people, love?”

“I’m not dying.”

Short guy makes a dismissive wave. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. The faculty won’t kick you out for it. It would make them look bad. That’s why they weed out the weak beforehand. Now they’ll just offer you counselling or something. Don’t be surprised if you’re asked to come to the medical faculty to be poked and prodded by their med students.” He sits up, digs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, taps a cigarette out and lights it without taking his eyes off Dick.

“I'm fine, I can assure you. I was born without a scent. It's a handicap, not a sign of depression,” Dick says with a pleasant smile. He wants to drop fangs and roar at the little smug shit for implying he’s weak.

Short guy blows out smoke upwards and gestures towards Dick with his cigarette. “That's good. Very convincing, darling. Keep telling people that with that blasé conviction and they'll believe you.”

Dick can’t stand the guy. He looks out the window to see the sun’s position signifying that the library just having opened. The University has a limited supply of required books that one can borrow and the fewer things he’ll have to buy, the better. He turns towards the door, then stops and looks down on the bag on the floor to read the name tag. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance, _Fergus_ , but I’m afraid I have to leave you for a bit.”

“It’s Crowley.”

Dick makes a noncommittal sound and heads for the door.

“Hey, Totty, you didn’t tell me your name,” Crowley says as Dick opens the door.

Dick looks over his shoulder with a small smirk. “Please. Call me Dick,” he says, winks, and leaves the room…

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. I'm off to Stockholm tomorrow. Be back in a few days. There will be no updates while I'm away. Although, don't let that stop you from leaving a comment. ;D


	8. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick works hard to adapt to his new life. Crowley isn't making life easier for him. ...Or is he...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! A new update! :D Wrote most of this on my phone while travelling. :) I had a nice time visiting my dad, and getting to meet one of my uncles from the Netherlands, as well as make a video call to another uncle currently living in Thailand. I haven't seen either of them for more than 25 years. It was nice. Now my head is reeling from all the Dutch I've spoken and listened too, to a degree that I dream in Dutch. x) Oh well.
> 
> As usual this chapter is Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### The Annoying Roommate

“You’re lucky, being a male Omega on campus. The amount of pussy you can get…” Crowley whistles lowly. “If you’re into that, I mean. But maybe you’re the type not to stir for anything less than a knot big as a wrecking ball?” 

Dick’s been trying to ignore him. Crowley is not one to get the hint. “Why would my gender make females want to have sex with me?” he asks without looking up from the school book he’s reading. 

“Since you’re shooting blanks. And even the most prude, Conservative wench will gladly ride an Omega bloke while maintaining that they’re saving themselves for their Truemate. It’s complete tosh, if you ask me. But still, you’re lucky. All these new hormones awakening, making people want to experiment.” 

Dick hums disinterestedly. He’s not, in fact, indifferent to the knowledge Crowley imparts with his ceaseless blathering. He knows too much about college life to be dismissed. But he’s _annoying_. Like a fly or a gnat buzzing just by your ear. He still hasn’t unpacked much. He’s put sheets on his bed, hung a few band posters, put a laptop and a pair of speakers on his desk and that's it. At least his bag is on his part of the room now. 

“So are you into smashing some pussy once in a while?” 

Dick loses patience, drops fangs and growls. 

Crowley smirks one of his smug asshole smirks. “Ah. So you're a Primal. And here I was thinking you were about to put the One God's Star on your wall and say your prayers before night-night like a good gal.” He taps out a cigarette from his pack and lights it. Dick’s come to like the smell of it. If nothing else, Crowley talks less when he smokes. 

“I’m not a Primal,” Dick says primly. His jaws ache but he doesn’t retract his fangs. 

“Sure you are, darling. Only Primals have no patience and no manners.” Crowley gets off his bed, saunters up to Dick’s desk and hops up to perch on it, unbothered by the notes and books he sits on. He hitches a foot on the backrest of Dick’s chair and Dick withholds the urge to punch him in the nutsack. 

“No manners? Maybe I would have, if you didn’t bother me while I’m studying.” 

“Relax. College is supposed to be fun. It’s been three days and you’re already cramming like you’re preparing for the finals.” Crowley takes a drag of his cigarette looking down at Dick considering. Once again his lips hook in a crooked smirk and his eyes narrows while he blows out smoke. “But then again, you lied about one thing in your application, so why not everything else? Anybody with eyes can see the dead give-away why you’re not minted enough to have afforded the basic education to get into college in the first place. You want me to tell you what that is?” 

Dick’s gut churns nervously. He gives Crowley a flat look. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me even if I yell ‘fuck off’ in your face. So please, _don’t_ play up the suspense,” he says schooling himself to look bored. 

Crowley leans forward while holding eye-contact. “All it takes is knowing what _this_ is,” he says and puts two fingers on the broad leather cuff bracelet poking forth from under Dick’s sleeve. Dick looks down on the point of contact. “Us toffs don’t need to hide it, darling. Look around. Look at me, at everybody. You might as well stamp ‘chav’ on your forehead while wearing that.” He leans back up and takes another drag on his cigarette watching Dick’s reaction. 

Dick _does_ look at him then. The two necklaces around his neck, several rings and bracelets. He hadn’t thought much about it. Everyone wears stuff like that around here and since he’s not in a position where he has to steal, it’s not been of any interest to him. (And even if he would need to steal, he wouldn’t do it here. You don’t shit where you eat.) He looks down at the worn leather cuff with its fabric trimming―something he’d gotten in return for reading a letter once―and slowly moves to take it off. Part of him goes into high alert when the gold bracelet underneath is revealed. 

“There you go, darling. Don’t fret. I won’t tell on you. As long as you sit on my knot once a wee―” 

Dick growls and is out of his chair with claws out grabbing Crowley by the throat before the sentence is finished. “You won’t tell anyone anything about me, because you have a wish to live. And if you want me to sit on your knot you’ll make me want it, just like anyone else would. I will not stand being blackmailed. _Especially not_ to give out sexual favours, unless I’m fucking _horny_.” He’s got to hand it to Crowley. The guy’s got good nerves. The red in Dick’s eyes reflects on his face, the claws dig in just short of breaking skin, yet the guy only smells faintly distressed. And somewhat aroused too. 

“Can’t take a joke, darling? I knew you were Primal. Just look at you. Want to make a bet on how many Progs you’ll make pee themselves in fright this year?” he says with a smirk. 

“The only one who should be peeing themselves right now is you.” 

“Oh, _please_ , I like my Omegas feisty,” Crowley responds dismissively. 

Dick rolls his eyes and lets go, sitting back in his chair again with his arms crossed over his chest. “Would you please let me go back to my studies, Crowley?” 

“Are you local?” Crowley asks and takes another drag on his cigarette, ignoring Dick’s plea. 

“Yes.” 

“So. The slums then. It explains the violence. I'd tone it down a bit if I were you. No need to be so stressed. Skive a tad. Here, have a fag. It’ll help.” He offers his pack of cigarettes to Dick. 

Dick shoves him off the desk. 

* * *

Crowley is an obnoxious little shit. Dick makes a list in his head about why. 

Crowley listens to awful music on too high volume. Dick likes a lot of different music, but Crowley has managed to find a genre Dick _doesn’t_ like. British punk rock. You can’t dance to it, the singers can’t sing, the instruments sound off-key and untuned. Crowley will headbang or play air drums to it while Dick grits his teeth, trying to study. 

Crowley jerks off every evening before he goes to sleep. The sound of it turns Dick on until he's all wet and gnashing his teeth in frustration then lies awake stewing in arousal while Crowley snores unaware of the havoc he wreaks. 

Crowley will follow Dick around deep-purring if they cross paths on campus. Dick hates that he loves it. He vows he never wants anything to do with Alphas ever again. Definitely not Primals and especially not Packrunning trash. Like Crowley had said, college is a playground for young, newly presented people with awakening hormones. Many of them are away from home for the first time, out of sight from their parents or mentors, viewing it like an exception to the rule, being a lot more hedonistic than they would otherwise. Dick can be talking to a group of people when a sweetly smelling Omega passes by making the Alphas in the group deep-purr and turn after her. Crowley is the only one to deep-purr for him. There's no scent to entice anyone else. Dick self-loathes because he cares. 

Crowley doesn't do much studying while Dick works non-stop to make up for his missing education. It's quite daunting. Being autodidact at something doesn't prepare you for the way academic education works. Dick’s stressed out of his mind trying to catch up and Crowley’s unbothered attitude grates on him. Granted, Dick’s not the only one who’s stressed out and overwhelmed. He smells it on a lot of people, hiding his own near panic behind a smile and eyes that twinkle with fake amusement. But Crowley goes to his seminars, takes some notes on his laptop, then parties or just bums around. 

Crowley brings home Omegas to their room. He spends an inordinate time making them scream in pleasure before he knots them. Seriously, is that really necessary? 

Then there’s his half-stalkerish ability to just show up anytime Dick’s confused. 

Like now. Dick’s on the campus ground staring at the three houses further away on the campus grounds. They’ve got three Greek letters painted on them, Alpha on one, Omega on the other, and Beta on the third. He’s got no idea what they are except the people living there are rowdy. He smells Crowley coming. It’s the cigarettes. 

“You want to move in there you need to win a popularity contest, darling,” Crowley informs him and comes to stand beside him with his cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“What contest?” he asks. Crowley sniggers. “Ah. I see,” Dick adds when he realises Crowley meant metaphorically. “So what are they?” 

“They used to be called fraternities and sororities. They can’t be called that anymore because female Alphas don’t like the idea of brotherhoods and male Omegas don’t want to be part of a sisterhood. Nowaday the people living there just identify by their house. It doesn’t change anything. The Alphas all act like Primal, bratty wazzocks, and the Omegas like Conservative, bratty arseholes no matter what their affiliation is. But if you’re jammy they’ll invite you to get legless at their parties. They sure know how to party.” 

Dick side-eyes him with a little smirk, wishing he’d speak like normal people. It had taken Dick some time to figure out ‘jammy’ was ‘lucky’, not ‘in a jam’, and legless meant drunk. Sometimes he wonders if Crowley uses British slang just to confuse him. “I’ll keep that in mind. What does the Beta stand for?” 

Crowley makes a dismissive gesture. “Progs. They don’t want to divide Alphas and Omegas. Say it’s discrimination of equal gender rights and all that tosh. So instead they discriminate based on your heritage and wallet.” 

“So… you have to be rich to get to live there…?” 

Crowley gives him a disgusted look, takes a drag on his cigarette and shakes his head. “No. Just act like it. Pretend to be a posh sod and you’ll fit right in. Why? Tired of my company already, love?” 

Dick smiles wider, teething his canines. “Dear me, whatever gave you that idea I wonder?” Then he turns on his heel and starts walking. Naturally, Crowley follows, deep-purring. 

* * *

There’s a sports field on the grounds as well as a forest-like area beyond that, dotted with obstacles like those you'd find on an army boot camp. The main building on campus has long outdoor balcony walkways overlooking this area that seem to be for the purpose of holding spectators as much as for walking. Dick’s leaning on the railing, looking at the obstacle course. Currently there is something going on over there. It looks like games of tag, with one, two, or even three people chasing one. And quite a large group of spectators cheering for them on site. 

He’s so focused on trying to figure out what they’re doing that he jerks when Crowley suddenly leans his back against the railing beside him, lighting a cigarette. “It’s called an Omega run. The Alphas chase the Omega for the right to knot him or her. Usually they entice the Alphas to chase when they're in Heat. The Alphas need to prove they're as good as the Omegas to get her. And then there are those teasing wenches who let you catch them and still say no. There's another version too, where we track by nose instead of chasing.” 

“Hmm. That all seems like a very Primal thing to do.” 

Crowley blows out smoke upwards. “Should be right up your alley then, love.” 

“I've told you, I'm not a―” 

“Bollocks, darling. You drop fangs and growl in your sleep when you've got nightmares. That's a learned reflex.” 

Dick draws breath to answer but gets sidetracked by loud cheering from the obstacle course. There's one girl running for all their worth _beside_ the obstacles, and a guy _over_ them with impressive agility, quickly closing in. “Who is that?” 

Crowley throws an uninterested look over his shoulder, his scent bearing traces of discontent. “Lucifer, most likely. That red-eyed twat is king of the game. Nose like a bloody demon. I’ve heard the knobhead has a huge knot, as well. Something for you, perhaps?” 

“Doubtfully. Besides, he'd never catch me. And no matter how good his nose is, how's he going to track me?” Dick lifts a sardonic eyebrow and hooks his mouth in a smirk to hide how bitter he is about it. 

“Afraid them boys won't be into dick? I'd run for you, totty.” 

Crowley has a way of propositioning him that makes it sound like he's doing Dick a favour. It's like he _wants_ a no. Dick looks down to calculate distance to the balcony below then turns around to lean his back against the railing, gripping it firmly behind him with both hands. “Really? Oh dear. Funny how I don't believe you.” With that he jumps up and folds himself in half swinging backwards with straight arms, pulling his legs between his arms to the outside of the railing. He smells Crowley's burst of fear and distress before he lets go and falls. 

He grips the railing below with one hand and uses the momentum of his fall and to swing himself over the railing penduluming his legs. He startles three students that shy back in fear licking their lips cowering when he lands in front of them. Since none of them are hostile he ignores them in favour of looking up to see Crowley lean over the railing with a worried expression. “Well? Are you coming?” he calls with a cheeky smirk. “No? Dear me, and here I was, thinking you could keep up. Oh well. Good day.” He turns with a teasing wave and walks away. There are several ways to say no. This is one. 

* * *

Maybe he should have known it was coming. If he wasn’t constantly stressed out, he would have felt the change that started as Peter’s bond begun to fade. 

Most evenings he lies awake reading in bed. He reads by the red light of his flare since it’s a less intrusive light than having his lamp lit. Just because Crowley is an annoying asshole doesn’t mean he has to be one too. Crowley might rile him up with his masturbation habits, but Dick will never show him that he’s affected, so instead of jerking off he reads when he can’t sleep. It’s been two weeks and the last two days he’s been too tired to read as well as too tired to get turned on by Crowley jerking off. He lies with his eyes open, staring unseeingly at the wall, mind drifting into the void while time passes unnoticed. He’s getting more and more foggy, losing connection to his senses. Drifts into the empty... 

Suddenly something lands on his face that smells of Crowley and he sucks in a startled breath only to realise he hasn’t taken a breath for too long. 

“Could you keep it down? I’m trying to sleep over here,” Crowley grouses. 

“I wasn’t making a single sound!” Dick protests, removing Crowley’s dirty shirt from his face. His heart starts beating wildly in the wake of the startlement and he realises how cold he is despite the thick comforter and the balmy temperature of the room. 

Crowley grumbles something unintelligible. 

Dick lies awake heart hammering in fear when he realises what nearly happened. Peter’s bond is almost gone and the sorrow of his recent losses is gnawing at him. It scares the living shit out of him that his body is trying to give up. He puts Crowley’s shirt back over his face and inhales as deeply as he can without being too obvious about doing so. Crowley smells great. The longer they share a room, the better Dick likes it. Maybe that’s why every deep inhale chases the cold away a little bit more and makes his heartbeat more steady. His mind is reeling with panicked thoughts. He wouldn’t think it possible for him to fall asleep with how afraid he is of what this means, but then he wakes up and it’s suddenly morning. He still has his nose buried in Crowley’s shirt. Crowley is still asleep so Dick gets up and drops the shirt on top of Crowley’s dirty laundry pile to hide that he’s snuggled it and leaves the room to take a shower. 

Dick talks to other people. Of course he does. He drinks coffee every morning (It’s free!) in the common room by the shared kitchen. Brad and Chad (Yes. They’re roommates and that’s their names.) are the only ones to be up and about as early as he is in the mornings. They’re very social. Today Brad decides to be inquisitive. “Dicky! My man! Are you a stuck up little bitch if you get personal questions?” 

“Depends what they are,” Dick answers and sits down by a table with his coffee cup. 

Brad and Chad get up from their own table and come to sit by his his. “We’ve been wondering―” 

“Don’t get mad.” 

“It’s just that we haven't met―” 

“We don't mean to be assholes or anything.” 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to―” 

Dick smirks in amusement at the flustered way they talk over each other. “Just ask. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t.” 

Brad and Chad look at each other and Chad makes a ‘go on’ gesture with his head to Brad. Brad turns his attention to Dick. “Have you got balls?” The two of them stare at him attentively, holding their collective breath. 

“As in courage or appendages?” Dick says seriously, sniggering on the inside. 

“Bro. We haven’t met a male Omega in person before. It makes us wonder how you look like. You know. Downstairs,” Chad flusters. 

“If you want to find out how I personally look downstairs, you’ll have to seduce me. But let me ask you something in return. When did your balls appear on your body?” 

“ _Bro_ , I was born with them!” 

Dick smirks, taps his temple, and lifts his eyebrow meaningfully. 

“Oooh,” the pair say as one. Dick finds them delightful. You’d never guess they didn’t know each other before they came here. Now they’re practically joined by the hip. 

“But… um…. Like…” Chad flusters. “If I’d knot you, would my dong come out all poopy and stuff?” 

Dick can’t help but to laugh. The two of them are looking at him like he’s a well of knowledge, waiting in suspense for his answer. They look like he felt while talking to Henry. “Dear me. Now you’re just being lazy. There is a library full of books closeby and they have a vast section on biology.” Dick knows, because he’s been cramming. 

“Sorry.” Both of them look sufficiently ashamed so Dick takes pity. 

“The answer is no. The canal of a male Omega is split and there are internal ring muscles controlling which way is open. They are tight enough not to allow excrement to get into the canal for the reproductive organs and the opening for poop is placed before the other opening. It’s always closed off unless we actually go to take a dump, and when we poop we produce slick to ‘flush’, if you will. The last thing that comes out is always a clear blob of slick. The only way your dong might come out poopy, is if you take an unwilling Omega by force.” 

The guys recoil in disgust. “Maaan, that’d be gross! I don’t get how anybody can do that. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever took an Omega by force.” 

“It’s impossible too. If they don’t want you they stink horribly.” 

“Not impossible at all,” Dick answers. “In my case, you wouldn’t know unless I told you. You can’t even smell my Heats.” 

“Bro, that must suck. Has anyone… um…” 

“Taken me against my will?” 

Brad nods. 

“No. Unless they’re Packrunners I wouldn’t let them survive trying.” Dick smirks cockily. 

“Why’d you not fight off Packrunners?” 

“They’re too many. Even if you’re currently one-on-one, if you cross one you cross them all. I’d rather take a knotting unwillingly than have 5 to 50 vengeful foes chasing me. Not that I have to worry much. I was born without a scent so there’s nothing to attract an Alpha anyway. Nobody’s interested.” 

“Hey now, that’s not true!” 

“Like, we think you’re hot, bro.” 

“But we don’t know how to flirt with someone without a scent. Like, we don’t want to harass you or anything.” 

“And I sorta forget what I’m supposed to do when I don’t smell you.” 

“Yeah, like, purring at you and stuff.” 

“And it seems like it’d be rude to do it here too.” 

“Yeah, because this is the floor you live on.” 

“And it’s supposed to be your safe space.” 

“Yeah, bro. Like, not all Omegas like it when you flirt with them, and they’ll go to the Omega floor to be left alone. But you live with us Alphas so it’d be fucked up if you didn’t have anywhere to chill, you know?” 

“So it’s not like we don’t _want_ to knot you.” 

“We just don’t know if we should. Or if you’d think us major assholes. And when in doubt it’s always best to let it be.” 

“We think you’re a cool dude. And I’d rather be friends with you than act like a boorish knothead in case it fucks it up.” 

Dick looks from one to another thoughtfully before making up his mind. “That's very considerate of you. I don't mind flirting, but I appreciate the respect you’re giving me.” “No problem, bro. Hey, Mike and the boys are hosting a kegster at the Alpha house on Friday. Wanna go there with us?” 

Dick doesn't know who Mike is, but it doesn't matter. “Thank you for the invite. But I have to decline for now. Tell you the truth the study pace here is quite overwhelming compared to my old place of learning. If you still would like my company when I've had more time to settle, ask again and I'll say yes.” 

“Far out.” 

“We'll do that.” 

That night when Dick goes to bed Crowley is nowhere to be found. Dick lifts the comforter and spots one of Crowley's used shirts hidden underneath. It's another one than Crowley threw at him yesterday. He rolls his eyes and grabs the shirt to throw it in the laundry. Instead he ends up pressing it against his nose, inhaling. He thinks about how his body had tried to give up on him last night, fear clawing in his belly. Crowley isn’t here to see what he does anyway so when he crawls into bed and cuts the light, Crowley’s shirt is still pressed against his nose. 

* * *

“Care to explain yourself?” Dick asks when he comes back from a lesson on laundry day, to find Crowley’s used sheets put on his bed. Crowley’s got clean sheets on his bed, but instead of washing the dirty ones he put them on Dick’s. 

“I bring people over, love. It’s embarrassing. They might think I share room with some dodgy ponce. Can’t have that.” 

“I’ve told you, I’m gonna go out and buy sheets as soon as I’ve got time.” 

“And now you won’t have to. You can stay in and keep filling that bookworm brain with pointless knowledge to your heart’s content,” Crowley says dismissively and lights a cigarette. He holds out the pack to Dick. “Fag?” 

Dick stares unblinkingly at him, then on his bed, then back at Crowley until Crowley retracts the pack and shifts uncomfortably. “I’m skint. Got to go ring my so-called parents to ask them to send more dosh. Would you be a doll, and go fetch the last batch I left in the laundry trolley? And then go tell Evan he can use the rest of our laundry time. Poor sod honked all over his bed this morning,” Crowley babbles while sauntering towards the door trying to seem blasé, but Dick can smell his discomfort. 

Dick nods and Crowley gives a half-assed salute with his cigarette-wielding hand before leaving. Afterwards, Dick slowly sinks down on his chair, staring at his bed thoughtfully. He has to reconsider his asshole roommate. Maybe all the helpful information Crowley imparts while blabbering is dropped on purpose? Crowley talks a lot but never gives anything useful away about himself and his past. He’s seen right through Dick. But this? Funny how Crowley has never been bothered by the lack of sheets and pillowcases on Dick’s bed before Dick started to suffer from his fading bond to Peter. Funny how Crowley chose to put his _used_ sheets on Dick’s bed, rather than one of the clean sets Dick knows he has. Funny how he blocked Dick from washing them by giving away the remaining hours in the laundry room. It gives Dick a valid excuse to sleep surrounded by a surrogate-scent to ease the suffering of losing a mating bond, without having to drop his pride and admit any weaknesses. 

Dick looks at the door where the annoying little shithead Alpha left from. The Alpha who is currently taking care of him unasked for, helping him keep up appearance. 

For the first time in almost three weeks, Dick wonders about him and why he is like he is…

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I always appreciate it. <3


	9. Coping With the Obnoxious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time goes by Dick's step by step adjusting to his new situation. Sometimes helped by the cursed Alpha he shares a room with, sometimes coping with the trouble he causes. Still, Dick starts feeling content about how things are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, you guys. Very sick. I travelled to Stockholm to see my dad and two days later I was knocked out, to sick to even write. Most prominently my asthma is acting up big time. It's hard to write when you can't breathe. :P I went to the doctor today and hopefully the new medication will help. So this chapter is written in bits and pieces. A sentence here, a paragraph there. But lo and behold - a full chapter was eventually created. ;D Actually, since the chapter depicts a series of time jumps the way I wrote it is somewhat fitting. ^^
> 
> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.

### Carving Out a New Space

“You're all familiar with this image…” The professor shows a drawn picture of a man and a woman cut in half to show their internal organs with the projector. Dick's had never seen the image in his life before he read up on it in the library and instantly frets. Everyone else in the lecture hall appears like this is old news to them. As per usual there's a lot of knowledge one is assumed to have. All it means is that he has to go down to the library and read up on the subject while trying to retain the information they're meant to be learning. “The classical image of an Alpha and Omega. I'm sure you all had a good giggle at it as Juvies, maybe even felt a bit repulsed during the lessons, only listening with half an ear because you weren't thinking about knotting with anyone ever. Am I right?” the professor continues. “Boy, did that change,” he jokes. 

Many in the hall snigger, Dick amongst them. This is probably why you have to be presented to get into college. You view many things differently once you are subjected to your new biology. Dick's never been put off by seeing people knot or have sex. As a kit and Juvie, he considered it with indifferent curiosity. Now he thinks about it all too often. He hates that he does since he's all but invisible to everyone but his obnoxious roommate. 

“Do you remember why knotting is such a big deal?” the professor asks. 

A couple of people put their hands up. The professor points at a girl. “Because it makes us produce calming chemicals, Sir.” 

“Quite right. We produce certain chemicals. Not only calming ones. On page 53 in your book, there's a list of about a hundred known chemicals we produce in a normal knotting amongst strangers. We produce even more in a close relationship. But as you say, the stress-reducing ones are the most noticeable.” The professor points at the pictures. “There are points that will send a signal to the brain to start producing these chemicals when they come in contact with other chemicals. Contrary to common belief it's not solely the pressure of a knot producing the effect. The pressure only makes for 35%. That's why those who have Alpha on Alpha or Omega on Omega sex experience greater relief than those who use knotted dildos.” Once again there are giggles and sniggers in the room. “As you see here both Alphas and Omegas have sensor spots for penetration. On an Alpha you find them here, here, and here. We'll be talking more about this next week when we talk about bonding. Now. Show of hands, how many of you have seen this picture?” 

The professor shows another picture of a man and woman’s internal organs. This time there’s a murmur in the hall. Only four people hold up their hands. Dick sneezes. He’s got a bit of a cold. He’s overworked, but finally starting to feel _slightly_ less stressed out. However, stress might be why he’s struggling with a runny nose, sore throat and a slight headache. It’s not bad enough to disrupt his studies, though his sense of smell is greatly diminished. 

“It’s a shame that sex bias excludes this from basic education. For those of you who haven't yet figured it out, we're looking at a male Omega and a female Alpha. Since I get the same questions several times every year I'm going to answer it unprompted. No, female Alphas don't have a penis, as you can see. And no, your penis will never be covered with poo if you have sex with a male Omega. Look here. There are ring muscles here where the channel divides internally, preventing that from happening. Now. How many of you have seen this picture?” 

The male and female on the new picture projected make Dick lean forward in fascination. Not a single hand shoots up. 

“Anyone cares to tell me what we’re looking at?” the professor prompts. 

A couple of hands are raised. 

“Yes, Miss Englewood?” 

“Juvies, Sir?” 

“Bingo! As you can see, up until a few months before we present, we have underdeveloped organs for both genders. What we present as is often, perhaps always, a response to our life and environment, although we are yet to determine exactly how. The body gives us the best chance of survival and happiness and reabsorbs unnecessary body parts during the months before presentation, as you can see clearly if you compare the picture of a male Alpha to the one of a male Juvie. See how the womb has disappeared? But some parts remain, like the sensor spots for penetration.” 

Dick gets hung up on that. It seems absurd to him that being an Omega would give him advantages in the slums where he grew up since aggression is such a big part of that world and Alphas are generally more aggressive. But thinking about it, Omegas are often more resilient. He just can’t wrap his head around there being another reason than just random coincidence that he’s an Omega. 

“Every single one of you are evolving as we speak. Our DNA is constantly changing depending on what we do and experience. It's a wonder that it doesn't mean we're all superhuman by the time we turn 40. But the body has no way of knowing if it changes for the better or not. You might lose abilities you had as a little kit. You might gain new ones. You will without a doubt pass on different qualities to your kit depending on when you have them. It can take as little as one generation to change the key genetics of a morphological species like ours. And that's what we'll be learning about here. Welcome to Social Biology.” The professor pauses and looks around to let everything sink in. 

“Try to forget your designated bias. We'll be talking about Progressives, Conservatives, Primals, and Packrunners alike. All of these have different pros and cons. One of these is even branching off into a new, separate species. We’ll be talking about that too. Now, can anyone tell me what our most important sense is? Don't be shy. I want interaction if you want good grades.” 

Dick puts his hand up without thinking. Turns out he's one of five who does it. 

“You, up in the back. Yes, you. What's your name?” 

“Dick Roman, Sir.” 

“So, Dick. What's our most important sense?” 

“Smell.” 

“Good! That's correct. For the vast majority of us, smell is the most important sense. However, for about 45% percent of the Progressives that doesn't hold true. Care to tell us what sense is the most important to them, Mr. Roman?” 

“Sight,” Dick chances thinking of how Progs react to the sight of teething no matter what smell goes along with it. 

“Well done! Absolutely correct. Are you a by any chance a Progressive, Mr. Roman?” 

“No, Sir.” 

“In that case you've paid attention in class. Most non-Progressives answer hearing.” The professor finally turns his attention to the rest of the students. “Hearing is our second most important sense. Both hearing and smell are key to Primal communication, something devoted Progressives try not to use at all. Therefore, to them, sight is most important. Hearing is second most important to them, but not for the same reason as for most of us. In this course of social biology, we’re going to learn why that is, how we’re constantly changing based on what designation we choose to follow, what traits are most common within each group, and in general how our biology as a morphologic species is influenced by our ideals and behaviour. To do well in this class you need to disregard your bias as well as you can, and participate actively. To start this off, we’re going to do a little experiment. Picture standing face to face with a stranger. You’re having a disagreement. I want you all to make the most frightening sound you can imagine them making at you. Now now, don’t be shy. I want to hear all of you,” the professor encourages and gestures to them to be louder. 

A few people start growling, then one by one more people join the chorus. Some roar. Dick can discern several types of growls. A girl two rows down from him makes an appreciative growl which he finds funny. It’s a positive sound. If it scares her, she must be a Prog. A guy far down, close to the podium makes a deep, quiet growl that is pretty bone-chilling because it preludes merciless violence if one doesn’t get away fast enough. But most make the type of growls that are threatening, but made to intimidate - to _avert_ the use of violence. Dick frowns in thought. Then it comes to him. He starts making the scariest sound he can think of, a low-frequency sound deep in his breastbone cavity. Almost as soon as he starts making it, three people in the lecture hall flare and look his way. He sees the professor look at his area, then straight at him. 

“Can everybody except Mr. Roman quiet down? Good. Statistically, 3-7% of you can’t even hear the sound Mr. Roman is making, and very few of you will have the misfortune of hearing it. No, no, don’t stop Mr. Roman. Keep doing that sound. Yes, very good. For those of you who can hear it but find yourself stumped as to why that is a frightening sound, we can do a demonstration. You there, what’s your name?” He points to the girl sitting closest to the double doors closest to the podium. There are several doors leading into this lecture hall. Dick’s sitting in the back by another door, and the double doors are on the same side as him, but in the front of the room. 

“Jennifer Abrams, Professor.” 

“Miss Abrams, go open the double doors.” The professor turns to the students that are flaring and looking at Dick. “You three. Would you be so kind as not to explain to people why you reacted like you did before the experiment is over?” He looks around the hall. “For the rest of you, don’t be frightened by what’s about to happen. We are in a perfectly safe environment.” 

Dick’s a bit confused. He wonders what the professor thinks will happen? He’s making _his_ pack’s distress call. He’d thought of making the Hales’ call, but his own pack’s call scared him more. He reminds himself that they’re all dead. They’re not his pack anymore and he’s _not_ a Packrunner. 

“Way back in time we were all Packrunners,” the professor goes on and switches back to the first picture they’d been looking at. “Packs are notorious users of Primal communication, especially the sounds we make here…” He uses a laser pointer to indicate the elongated double hollow under the breastbone on both the Alpha and Omega on the picture. There are several membranes inside of them. “Note how the membranes look slightly different? That’s because there are sounds that only Omegas make. An Omega who wanders has a sound they can make to let people know that they are only passing through and don’t have any intentions to infringe upon another pack’s resources. Instinctually, no matter what designation you have, you’ll be less inclined to use violence against them as long as you can hear it. That’s why there are accounts of Omegas crossing battlefields unharmed during the war. Our closest relative here in America, the wolfcat, also has this sound. It’s interesting, because this specific sound is one of the few sounds made here, in the smaller chamber in the breastbone tract. It’s one of the few sounds that can be made at the same time as other sounds from the tract. For an instance, you can make this sound at the same time as the sound Mr. Roman is currently making.” 

The professor suddenly grins at a student. “Ah. I see you are confused. Let me show you why.” He switches to a picture of the head and ear but seen from the inside. “See this? This is the ear canal and how we hear most things. But the low-frequency sounds I’m currently talking about we pick up here, here, and here…” he points to three small spots, one inside the ear, one behind the eye, and one just behind the jaw. “Like I mentioned earlier, 3-7% of you no longer have these sensors…” 

The professor goes on but Dick’s distracted. By the double doors, there are two people who’ve come in to stare in his direction. A blond little slip of a girl and a gangly Asian guy. Both are flaring, fangs peeking out from their slightly parted lips. Just as he discovers the newcomers two more show up. Two tall, good-looking guys. The dark haired one is dressed properly in suit pants and a light blue button up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The blonde is shirtless with a leather vest and stonewashed jeans. He looks like a menace. More importantly, though, both are flaring with their fangs dropped. The blond has long fangs and a red flare that makes Dick want to fan himself. Now he finally gets why people get so worked up by his flare, even if this guy’s red is darker than his own. The dark haired guy has the same blue colour as Peter and no qualms about interrupting the lecture. “Professor Rosenbaum, is everything alright in here?” he asks, looking from Dick to the professor. 

“Everything is quite alright, Michael. We’re conducting an experiment. Mr. Roman, you can stop making the sound now.” 

Dick doesn’t cut right off, he divides the call with that clicking noise Peter had done when Dick told him he was in Heat. He’s astounded to see all individuals currently flaring, let their flare die as soon as they hear it. The professor coos in delight. All the newcomers leave except for the dark haired guy, Michael, who’d addressed the professor. He remains standing by the door looking up at Dick curiously. 

“I asked you all to make the most frightening sound you could think of hearing from a stranger you were in conflict with,” the professor goes on. “Mr. Roman chose to do a Packrunner’s call for aid. What you all got to see, is why it is a frightening sound. Right away we had three people in this hall ready to come to his defense. Within the few minutes I spoke another four had appeared―” 

“That doesn’t make any sense! None of them is in a pack with me,” Dick protests, then winces at having interrupted the professor. 

“Excellent point, Mr. Roman,” the professor enthuses. “Michael, before you go, would you mind explaining why you came to investigate a call from a stranger?” 

“Naturally, Mr. Rosenbaum. The campus is our territory. A territory shared by all of us students and teachers. While we are away from home, the other students are in a way our new pseudo-pack, and I’ll do my best to help or protect my peers for the duration of my stay.” 

“Thank you, Michael. Would you mind closing the doors behind you when you leave?” 

“No problem. See you later, professor.” Michael gives the professor a playful salute and leaves after one last look in Dick’s direction. Dick pays him no mind and stubbornly pushes the red-eyed blond guy out of his mind and focuses on the lecture. There’s no guarantee the guy’s an Alpha anyway. Besides, he’d just revealed that he’s Packrunning trash, and Dick wants exactly _nothing_ to do with Packrunners ever again... 

* * *

“Are you insane?! You’re telling me you got invited to a kegster by Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and you said _no_?” 

Dick sighs and gives him a flat look. “Yes. You were right, you know. I _am_ from the slums.” He debates the wisdom of admitting that and hopes Crowley won’t talk. “I’m here to learn so I can get a good job and live a good, wealthy life. I _need_ to focus on my studies.” 

Crowley gives him a fed up eye roll before hopping up to sit on Dick’s books as is his usual M.O. when he wants full attention. “Here’s a life lesson for you, darling. All the tosspots partying at the Houses are kids of the people running the companies you want to work at. You want to get chummy with them, because when it’s time to hire new people, a word of recommendation from them is worth more than straight As. And one day they’re going to be all grown up and take over their daddies and mummies’ businesses. Who do you think they’ll choose to hire? College is all about networking. They already know you can read and write, now you show them you can socialize too, alright, love?” 

Dick leans forward and rests his elbows on Crowley’s thighs, looking up at him. Crowley is still as annoying as always, Dick’s just adapted. Sort of like you adapt to rainy weather or chilly winds. Trying to fight them gets you nowhere. “I appreciate the tip, _Fergus_ , but I’m less worried about my grades to get a job, and more concerned about getting a renewal of my scholarship.” 

“Why don’t you just sit on the knot of one of the review board members?” 

“That’s an option?” Dick asks with interest. 

Crowley frowns in annoyance. “I thought it was. But if that’s not how you got in to begin with, maybe not…” 

Dick smirks. “I got my scholarship like anyone else. By having an approved application sent to the financial expedition.” 

Crowley narrows his eyes suspiciously and Dick keeps a pleasant smile on his lips. “If you say so. But socializing is still the way to get a renewal. I’ll show you. Come on. I need to go ring my parents anyway, to tell them to send more dosh,” he says and jumps off the desk, nearly straddling Dick for a moment. He takes out his pack of cigarettes and lights one then offers the pack to Dick. “Fag?” 

“No thank you. Why do you need to ask for more money? I thought they sent you a good amount last time and you definitely haven’t spent them yet,” Dick asks and gets out of his chair. 

“Story for another time, love,” Crowley answers and leads the way out of the room. 

They've settled pretty well by now. The trick with the sheets worked. On laundry days Crowley changed to clean sheets and put his used ones on Dick's bed. Crowley had also marked their room up properly, which is what Dick envies the most. He's always wanted to be able to do that. He appreciates Crowley doing it for the both of them. It’s the normal thing to do. You mark your own room up but leave common areas the hell alone. Sometimes Dick would pass spots on campus where people had left territorial markings. At least two of the teaching professors do it. It’s a good way of telling who are forces to be reckoned with. You had to be pretty damn VIP to do that and always ready to back your claim. 

Walking through the campus with Crowley can be slow going. But only when Crowley’s sure Dick will follow and not wander off if he stops and talks with somebody. Crowley has no concern for who belongs in what clique, he talks with everybody. (“This isn’t High school, darling.”) He’s made himself welcome practically everywhere despite his punk appearance. For once Dick pays attention when they stop and talk to people. He hasn’t thought about it before but it _seems_ like a lot of people owe Crowley one way or another. He might be something of a fixer. If nothing else they stop to talk with Omega girls twice because Crowley wants to make an introduction. “This is Dick, my roommate I told you about. He’s a male Omega and if you handle your cards right he could help you with your predicament. Keep you _unsullied_ until your Truemate shows up, so to speak. Dick, this is Linda.” 

Linda smiles shyly and offers her hand to shake. “Hi.” 

Dick shakes her hand with a polite smile. 

“Dick, darling, be a doll and show her your flare.” 

Dick seriously considers punching Crowley. Instead he flares. Linda gasps and bites her lip over an excited smile. “Oh, that’s gorgeous!” 

“Told you so, didn’t I? Now you have to excuse us, but we have somewhere we need to be.” 

Crowley drags Dick along. When they’re out of view from Linda Dick stops and grabs Crowley by the shoulder to jerk him around. “Did you just drag me along so you could pimp me out?” 

“Of course not, love. Running into them was just a coincidence. Besides, it’s the other way around.” 

Dick rolls his eyes. “I don’t need help getting laid.” 

“Then turn them down when they come to you. Come on, we’re almost there.” Crowley turns around and keeps walking. Dick gnashes his teeth but follows. 

Crowley takes him to the area off-limits to students and walks inside like he has the right. He stops to speak with every teacher and professor they meet, introducing Dick. “This is Richard Roman, my roommate. Dick, this is Taylor Montgomery, he’s head of the medical faculty.” 

“Pleased to meet you, and sorry about your loss,” the old Alpha says and shakes Dick’s hand. 

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery, Sir, but I was born without a scent. I’m not in mourning.” 

“Oh really?” Montgomery says, eyes lighting up. “Could you consider coming down to the medical wing and let my students have a look at you? In about a month we’re going to go through scentlessness and what it can mean and how it manifests. Having someone to diagnose would be very helpful.” Behind his back Crowley mouths ‘review board’ to Dick. 

Dick’s glad he’s scentless. He’s so pissed off at Crowley right now and it wouldn’t do good to have Montgomery know that. He smiles. “Naturally. As long as it doesn’t infringe upon my own studies, Sir.” 

“Splendid! I’ll send you a summons when I’ve looked our schedules over. Richard Roman, was it?” 

* * *

“The hell were you thinking? I’m trying to keep a _low profile_. And you’re the one who told me they don’t grant scholarships to scentless people!” Dick explodes when they’re back in their room. 

“Relax, darling. As it stands they’ll all know you personally when it’s time to review you for a new scholarship. And this way, if it’s possible to cure your scentlessness medically, you’ll get treatment by professionals for free. If not, Taylor will still want to keep his guinea pig around for as long as he can and will vote in your favour.” Crowley blows out smoke upward and gestures dismissively with his cigarette. He holds out his pack to Dick. “Fag?” 

Dick flares and growls in his face, teething his canines. He catches a faint trace of arousal in Crowley’s scent. Figures. You just can’t win against Crowley. He turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. 

* * *

They have vending machines all over campus, containing quick snacks like sandwiches, apples, chocolate bars and so on. Dick comes up the stairs, opens the door to their wing of the Alpha dormitory and steps inside. He stops and stares down the corridor, lips twitching in amusement. Crowley is on the floor beside the vending machine, a cigarette pinched between his lips and arm inside the slot of the machine. “Oh dear. I didn't expect to see you steal candy. Your parents finally decided to stop sending money?” he teases. 

Crowley gives him a miffed glare. “The machine stole my dosh without giving me my Twix.” 

Dick smirks and strolls up to Crowley, then stops and rocks on his heels, hands behind his back. “Pitiful. Back up and let me show you how it's done.” 

Crowley withdraws his arm out of the slot and get to his feet, reeking of displeasure. He quietly leaves space for Dick. 

“Ever so often some rich bastard passes through the slums and notices that there are no vending machines anywhere. They get the brilliant idea to explore the untapped market. A little tip, don’t do that. This is what we do with vending machines…” He grabs the top of the machine and pulls with a determined jerk since it isn’t screwed to the wall. (If it was there’d be a door for refilling to pry open instead.) The machine tips forward. It’s heavy, but Dick’s strong and angling his body as a counter, then rocks the machine on its front legs from one side to another. It’s hard at first, then the machine’s own weight starts to aid the swaying motion. It takes a little while, and he pushes the machine up and lets it fall forward a couple of times, catching it to create jerks, then stuff starts to fall out of their slots. He only keeps it up for a little while, not aiming to take everything. Then he pushes it up back in place again and gestures at the slot. “Or as we like to call them - loot crates.” 

Crowley sniggers and eyes him appreciatively. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, darling.” 

“Don't mention it,” Dick says with a smug feeling in his chest. 

* * *

Later, Dick’s berating himself. Technically, he’d stolen. In front of a witness. On home turf. But when he comes back to their room Crowley’s playing air drums to his crappy music and has divided the loot into piles―one for each of them―and put on their respective desks. Since the damage is already done and Dick hasn’t eaten anything since the pear he had for lunch, he sits down by his desk and picks up a sandwich from the pile. He unwraps the plastic and takes a bite. As soon as he starts chewing he hears a low-frequency sound. He looks at Crowley to find him looking with a pleased smirk, the low sound is his purr. Crowley doesn’t say anything nor stops drumming, but he watches Dick eat with a constant purr and a pleased scent. Dick no longer regrets his impulse to help. 

* * *

Dick squeezes his eyes shut and silently fumes. How many orgasms can someone get? And is it really necessary to scream so loudly? He doesn't begrudge Crowley getting laid but he loathes the volume of this girl. Last time there had been the sweetest little kit of a girl who made breathy little whimpers and keened her purrs into the pillow. _Her_ sounds got Dick going to the degree that he got out of bed and went to the toilet to jerk off for the first time since he got here. (He didn’t want to give Crowley the satisfaction of seeing how aroused it had made him.) But this bitch? They’d been at it for two fucking hours and Dick can’t fucking sleep because she’s so loud. 

He turns around in bed to watch the pair. Crowley's gaze flicks in his direction long enough to catch Dick's deep scowl. He currently has his face between her legs, eating her out. The room reeks of their shared arousal. He sits up. “Climb on top of me, darling. I want you to ride me when I knot you,” he tells the girl, taking the hint that Dick’s patience is about to run out. 

At least Crowley only brings girls that smell good. Dick's grateful for that. He just wishes his obnoxious roommate wasn't so devoted to the task. It's not like he brings Omegas in Heat either. They don't _need_ this level of attention. Dick resentfully watches the girl straddle Crowley. Even now that she's on top Crowley's the one doing the work. He grabs her hips for leverage and starts fucking. He's usually pretty quick about knotting. 

Tonight's no different. A couple of minutes of intense pounding, then he slows to a grind, jerks a couple of times and stills. 

“Are you gonna knot me, or not?” the girl asks. 

“Darling, I _am_ knotting you,” Crowley answers tiredly. 

The girl laughs. It's a mean, mocking kind of laugh and Dick's instantly ticked off. He feels the pressure in his jaws and gives in to it, letting his fangs elongate. “Holy shit, that's pathetic,” she says. “Your knot is fucking tiny. I could probably get up and go without even feeling it slip out.” 

“That's a terribly rude and disrespectful thing to say,” Dick says before Crowley has a chance to answer. 

“Meh. Put a sock in it. Nobody’s talking to you,” the bitch sneers at him. Which, if you think about it, might not be the best thing to tell someone while you’re naked and knotted. 

Dick’s out of his bed between one heartbeat and another, dropping claws and flaring brightly. Three long strides and he’s by Crowley’s bed, grabbing her by the throat digging his claws in just short of breaking the skin. He roars once in her face to give her full display of his fangs and rage. She squeals in fear and grabs his arm as if that would somehow have any effect on his chokehold. “Listen, princess. You think you can come into _my_ home, disturb _my_ sleep, insult _my_ roommate, and tell _me_ to shut up without consequences? You are one step away from dying and need to learn some manners. You think having an Alpha devote two hours to giving you 20 something orgasms is the norm? Think again. How _dare_ you mock someone for something they can’t help after they’ve spent so much time making up for it!” The girl is crying from fear now, tears highlighted by Dick’s intense flare in the darkness. He lets go and she tries to bolt. _Tries._ Dick sniggers evilly. “Looks like his knot was big enough to hold you after all. Dear me, seems like you’re out of luck,” Dick purrs with a cruel smirk and flexes his claws in front of her face. 

She screams in terror. First Dick smells urine and Crowley starts laughing, then there’s a stench so foul he has to take a step back. It’s the first time he’s smelled the scent of an unwilling Omega. The girl makes another try to get loose, successfully this time as her stench killed Crowley’s boner even if _he_ still smells of arousal. She dashes towards the door crying, grabbing her clothes on the way. Dick follows. “You’re insane! I’m gonna get you kicked out! I’m gonna tell―” she yells at him when she’s out of the room and in the corridor. 

“Please, do tell them what a rude, ungrateful bitch you are,” Dick interrupts her. “In fact, tell your parents to contact me because I have some choice words for them about their inability to foster a decent human being. And if I ever see you anywhere in this wing ever again you’re going to need a casket. Now, dear, please fuck the hell off!” He finishes off with a roar. 

The ruckus has made people come out of their rooms or peek outside to see what the hell is going on. The girl runs away with her clothes pressed against her chest. Inside their room, Crowley’s still laughing. 

“Bro. What was that all about?” Chad asks with big eyes, scent tinted by distress. 

“After Crowley spent hours giving her countless of orgasms―” 

“Bro, we _heard_.” 

“We _all_ heard. Quite a screamer, wasn't she?” an Alpha named George says from further down the hall. It gets a couple of sniggers even if most are still too bewildered to laugh. All are staring at Dick with his proud, fierce posture, bright flare and claws still out. 

“She had the audacity to complain about the size of his knot and tell me to shut up when I chastised her.” 

“ _Bro._ ” 

“Yeah, you don't go attacking a guy's knot. That's just not fair,” Chad agrees with Brad. 

“Exactly. Nobody gets to treat any of my boys that way.” Dick makes a sweeping gesture to encompass all of them. “And from here on she's banned from this wing. Is that clear to everyone?” 

There's a murmur of affirmative from all the Alphas peeking from their rooms. 

“Good. Alec. I know this is your laundry time but you're gonna have to clear a machine for Crowley's sheets because that bitch peed all over Crowley and the bed when I got mad and I'm not having my night ruined further by the stink of it.” 

Most of the Alphas snigger at that. Alec gives a thumbs up in confirmation. 

“Chad and Brad, carry Crowley's mattress to the balcony. It'll have to be cleaned but not tonight. And, Crowley, for God's sake, stop laughing and get your ass to the shower. I'm not sharing a bed with you while you've got piss all over. _Hop, hop._ ” Dick isn't even surprised when he’s obeyed, a couple of guys helping Chad and Brad with the mattress while Alec and his roommate Donnie take care of the dirty sheets. Dick's geared up for war and even without a scent, it's obvious. But the guys don't smell of fear and Crowley's eyes twinkle with mirth when he passes by Dick to go to the showers. Only Jeff, two doors down from Dick and Crowley, smells of fear and eyes Dick warily. Dick meets his gaze and retracts his claws and fangs, letting the luminosity of his flare fade to a ‘normal’ coral red that doesn’t frighten Progs as much. Jeff visibly relaxes. “Go to sleep, Jeff.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Jeff prompts and quickly withdraws, closing the door. 

Dick huffs in bemusement at the title. ‘Sir.’ One day everyone will be calling him Sir unless he tells them otherwise. They’ll fear him even when he smiles his most benefic smile, knowing he can undo them with a simple signature on a paper. He goes back to bed mulling this over, ignoring the traffic in the room while his dorm-mates make quick work of cleaning out the soiled bed. 

He’s half asleep, on his side, turned against the wall, when Crowley comes back into the room. Crowley doesn’t light any lamps. He hears him shuffle around a bit, then everything goes quiet. Dick listens, waits for Crowley to crawl down under the blanket with him. Minutes tick by and all Dick can hear is careful breathing from the middle of the room. Dick doesn’t have the best night vision. But he has great luminosity in his flare when he wants to, so he flares and turns to look at Crowley in the red light he’s projecting. “Are you coming or not?” 

He’s never seen Crowley look so lost and insecure before. He’s in his underwear, holding his own hand in front of his chest, rubbing his fingers uncertainly. “How do you want me to be dressed, love?” 

“I don’t care if you are, as long as you let me sleep.” Dick holds up the blanket invitingly. 

“Okay…” Crowley _finally_ comes and gets into bed with him, carefully, unsure. “How close can I lie?” 

It’s not a big bed. It’s either lie pressed together shoulder to shoulder or spooning. Dick’s surprised by the question, to be honest. “Crowley, dear. I don’t care if you lie on top of me or not, as long, as you let, me _sleep_.” 

Crowley inches a little closer. Dick’s having none of this pussyfooting and nervous energy. He grabs Crowley’s arm and pulls it around himself, then slot himself tightly into the bend of Crowley’s body. Crowley relaxes, scent changing into pure contentment. Dick purrs. “We should have made that bet, love,” Crowley murmurs into his back. 

“What bet?” 

“How many Progs you’ll make pee themselves this year.” 

Dick chuckles. It’s funny how much his mood lightens by having a warm, well-smelling Alpha hold him. “She’ll be the only one unless you bring other unworthy assholes here.” 

“Unworthy?” 

“Don’t fish for compliments, _Fergus_ , you know you don’t deserve anyone to trash you like that.” Crowley rubs his nose affectionately against Dick’s neck gland. “Don’t. You’ll make me horny and I explicitly stated the one rule - _Let. Me. Sleep,_ ” Dick warns. 

“Sorry, love. Nite.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Crowley purrs and that’s all it takes to finally send Dick to sleep. 

* * *

It’s been weeks since the pee incidents and Dick’s yet to see any ramifications for his behaviour. It’s worrisome. On the bright side, Dick’s finally caught up with the pace of studying and it relieves his stress _a lot_. Since Crowley introduced him to his teachers personally (not all of them, but several) they tend to single him out when they ask the class questions, or ‘volunteer’ him to tasks. It’s stressful, but not as badly as it could be. And even if he answers wrongly the teachers praise his ‘eager participation’ and his positive approach. Little do they know that his positivity is just him hiding minor panic behind benevolent smiles. All in all, by the time the midterms are coming up and everyone else are working themselves up to a high stress level, Dick’s calmer than he’s been since he came here. He still hasn’t had a Heat since his bond to Peter faded, but Crowley’s scent cocooning him while he sleeps (He mourns that they just slept in the same bed for three days until Crowley’s mattress was dry. Naturally, the asshole went right back to pulling Omegas to their room for knotting.) and it prevents his body from trying to give up so Dick’s rather pleased not to be bothered by Heats. He’s not interested in Alphas. Nor Omegas, for that matter. He keeps turning down any attempts to get him to go out partying, although he’s secretly pleased that Chad and Brad always ask him. All he wants to do is be left alone and take his degree. He hasn’t decided what degree yet. As long as he gets his scholarship reapproved he’ll have time to decide later. 

Dick’s walking along a new corridor he’s never been in, searching for Professor Montgomery to see if they could move up the day he’s going to be a guinea pig for the medical faculty when he catches a scent and stops dead. “ _Oh fuck!_ ” 

* * *

Crowley finds him standing with his nose pressed up against the wall, inhaling deeply with closed eyes and a pathetically dreamy smile. 

“Bollocks. Don’t tell me you too have bought a ticket to their fan club,” he complains, reeking of discontent. 

“Whose fan club?” Dick asks, not moving away from the spot where someone wonderful has scent-marked the wall. 

“Bugger.” Crowley pulls him away from the wall with a displeased twist to his lips and takes a handkerchief from his pocket. He then rubs away the marking on the wall with it and hands it to Dick. “The magnificent brothers Mike and Lucifer. Who else?” he answers sarcastically then rolls his eyes when Dick promptly tucks the handkerchief against his nose with an affirmative, pleased hum. “Of course you did,” Crowley mutters and pulls Dick along. “Come on. You’re gonna miss class.” 

That night, Dick’s Heat hits… 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all will wish me to get well and so on. But one of the best pick-me-ups for me is comments about my story! So... *hint, hint* ;D
> 
> Oh, and this is the picture that inspired Dick's first glimpse of college!Luci.


	10. Getting the Keys to the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The academic world offers explanations to questions Dick didn't even know he should be asking. Dick's getting pretty good at using what he learns to his advantage. And if he has to get himself less than sympathetic bedmates to survive and climb his way upward, he will. Plus he figures something out about Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I googled the Latin word for 'masking' and it's 'dissimulo', to clear up why a thing is named what it's named. 
> 
> And I'm adding slow burn to the tags now. This isn't really a love story? I mean, it'll lead to Dick and Crowley mating but what they've got going isn't a straightforward romance. In this chapter, I was supposed to span a longer stretch of time and we'd be meeting Mikey and Luci... but, alas, that didn't happen. The day depicted here ended up being of such a grave importance to Dick's future. And for whoever has his thinking cap on we've now got all the pieces to explain how Dean unlocked Dick's scent in the present day.

### Scheming Science

“You should go see a doctor,” Crowley growls into his pillow. 

Dick looks up from the book he’s reading while walking back and fro in front of his bed. He hadn’t known Crowley was awake. “How's that?” 

Crowley raises his head to glare drowsily at him. “This is the third time you're sick since we moved in together and you're even running a fever. Besides, that pacing is driving me bonkers. It's 4 AM and we have exams tomorrow. If you can't sleep go down to the expedition. The night guard can wake up the on-call nurse in the medical wing for you.” 

Dick briefly considers telling Crowley he’s in Heat and that’s why he can’t lie still. But he’s also fairly certain Crowley’s suggestion, despite the growly voice, comes from a place of caring at least to some degree. If Dick tells him he’s in Heat Crowley might very well offer to knot him. Right now that sounds pretty damn good. However, Crowley had spent the evening and early night cramming for the upcoming exam and is in dire need of sleep. It would be very selfish of Dick to ignore that, so he holds his tongue. “Sorry for waking you, dear. I’ll let you sleep.” 

Crowley drops his head back into the pillow, mumbles something that might be thanks, and Dick leaves their room and heads for the common room. It’s surprisingly not empty. Chad’s sitting at a table with a coffee cup, several papers and books spread out in front of him, hand buried in his hair, staring down at them with a pained expression. “Are you alright, dear?” Dick asks redundantly. 

Chad looks up at him mournfully. “No. I’m trying to read up on the lessons I missed, but it’s stressing me out and the more stressed I get the harder it gets to read.” 

“Eyes getting grainy?” 

“Nah, man. I’ve got dyslexia.” At Dick’s blank expression Chad huffs a little embarrassed laugh. “It’s a condition that makes my brain scramble words and letters, like switching places of words or mistaking one letter for another. I have to concentrate really hard to get it right. The teachers here are chill about it. If I write something weird on exams they’ll ask me what I meant by the answer rather than flunk me. And if it’s really important I get it right from the start they’ll have me do the exam orally just before everyone else takes the test in writing. Wasn’t so lucky in basic school. Thought I was friggin stupid and that dad was wasting his money by sending me to college.” 

“Do you still think that?” Dick asks curiously and sits down at his table. 

“Nah, bro. I’m a lot smarter than I thought.” Chad smiles. He’s got one dimple. Suddenly he frowns. “Dude, you don’t look so well.” He reaches out and puts his hand on Dick’s sweaty forehead. “You’re burning up! We need to get you to a hospital,” he urges and makes to get up, distress wafting clear in his scent. 

Dick snorts in amusement. “Yes, because _fever_ is the only thing that might make an Omega’s temperature rise,” he says, quirks the corner of his lips upward and lifts a pointed eyebrow. It'll never cease to amaze him how these rich boys instantly see the hospital as an option. Back in the slums, the debt it would cause is seen as worse than death. 

Chad stops his motion halfway out of his chair. “You mean…?” 

Dick nods and the distress in Chad’s scent evaporates. He bites his lip and stares at Dick hopefully but unsure, slowly sinking back to sit. He’s so easy to read Dick can’t help but chuckle. He and Brad had said they wouldn’t come onto him while they’re here in their dorm, keeping it a safe space for Dick. But he’s practically vibrating with the wish to break his word. “Tell you what, dear. If you knot me, I’ll read to you,” Dick suggests. 

“Really?” Chad looks like sunshine peeking through a raincloud. 

“Really. I used to work as a reader for hire for an eye-blind college student during summers. I’m good at it. It’s a win-win situation, don’t you think?” A truth with modification. 

“Hell yeah, it is. Oh, shit, wait.” Chad digs frantically in his pockets and takes up a half-empty pack of Wrigley's Doublemint. “This is all I’ve got on me.” 

Dick looks down at the pack and sniggers. “When they say to use a rubber they don’t mean chewing gum, dear.” 

Chad huffs in self-deprecating amusement. “No, but you’re a Primal or a lenient Conservative, aren’t you? And you guys have all these complicated rules before a knotting.” 

“ _We_?” 

“Yeah, bro. Like, I grew up in a town in Idaho where 95% of us are Progs. I’m sort of on a crash course on how not to be one.” 

“Really? I would never have guessed. I was convinced you were a Primal.” 

“Aw, thanks. I’m trying.” Chad beams proudly at him. 

Dick chuckles. “Say, have you got all your primal senses? We’re learning about Progs in Social Biology right now and professor Rosenbaum says Progs are dividing into a whole new species, losing primal senses and instead trading them for resilience and resistance against certain elements that will fuck us others right up.” 

“Yeah, I do. But I’m the only one in my family that does. When my little sister tried to drop fangs she could only drop them halfway and then had a migraine for a week afterwards. But for me, it’s like, _tzing_ , with only a slightly uncomfortable pressure in my jaws for like an hour after I’ve done it. If I wasn’t the spitting image of dad he’d think mom had cheated. They even took me to a doctor to have me fixed. But apparently, _luckily_ , you can’t remove morph cells and primal sense organs. And the doctor said it was recessive genes that had caused it, or some shit. Like, genetics had hit a reset button when I was conceived,” Chad jokes. 

“In that case, let’s see that _tzing_ or yours,” Dick purrs playfully. 

Chad grins and drops fangs with impressive speed. 

“Good boy. And flare?” 

Chad’s flare is a high-luminosity golden. His scent is starting to give away budding arousal, excitement clear in his golden eyes. 

“Beautiful. Give me a deep-purr. I’m worth it.” Normally Dick would never _tell_ an Alpha to deep-purr for him. It makes him feel exposed and vulnerable to let them know he wants it because if he asks and they don’t do it, the rejection hurts. Even now, having learned in a lesson that deep-purring is an instinctual reaction to a nice scent, it’s still hurtful. But Chad is _learning_ and that makes all the difference. Chad’s purr gives him goosebumps from anticipation and makes him leak even more slick than he’d already been doing because of the Heat. It’s a Pavlovian response. His ass is salivating. Dick leans his head to the side to expose his neck. “Do you know what I’m inviting you to do when I do this?” 

Chad growls appreciatively and scoots his chair so he can lean in and scent Dick (uselessly) behind his ear, offering his own neck to be scented in return. He smells pleasant enough. All of the Alphas in the dorm smell just fine. Not all as good as Crowley. He sure had been lucky to be paired up with him. Fuck. It’s all nice and easy not to think of Alphas and knotting, siphoning and fucking mating bonds when you’re not in Heat. Maybe he could get suppressants from Montgomery? De-scramble his brain so he can focus on his studies instead of this. 

Chad rubs his nose against Dick’s ear gland, making it secret, and lets out a soft gasp. “Fuck, you’re sensitive. Can I lick it?” 

Precious. Both Chad and Brad are oddly precious. Naive. They’d be eaten alive in the slums. Right now Dick wants Chad to eat him alive. It takes too little stimulation for Dick to get his priorities messed up and he doesn’t like it even if it feels good. “Since I’m in Heat and want relief, you can presume the answer is yes to basically anything. But if you _do_ want me to read to you, I suggest we keep any foreplay short and that you knot me decently, fit for the public.” 

Chad chuckles and licks the secretion, causing a shiver. “You’re right, bro. Sorry. But I want to suck on your neck gland when you sit on me. It’s the hottest thing I know. Gonna pop my knot embarrassingly fast when I do it. But for once that’ll be a good thing, huh?” 

“You better cover my mouth with your hand in that case so I don’t wake everyone up.” 

Chad leans back so he can grin at Dick, deep-purr getting more intense. “Got it. Can you flare? You don't have to drop fangs if you don't want to. I get that it's painful for some and my kinks shouldn't override your comfort.” 

Kink. Only Progs would consider flaring and dropping fangs while knotting a kink thing. “I'll do both if you mark me up while we're at it. It's a thing for me.” 

“Mark you up like, ‘Yeah, we might a dunnit’, or like ‘Back off, bro, this bitch is spoken for’?” 

Dick sniggers. “I prefer the latter as long as you get that I'm not in any way _actually_ yours.” He realises that this quick back and forth is a big tell of Chad’s Progressive upbringing. Bartering, clearing up details. This lack of shame voicing wishes one-on-one. It’s a common Prog-trait in other areas of life too and he really appreciates it. Discussing payment and what service is expected of him in return as a reader/writer. Suggestions for sharing meals like ‘Hey how about I give you half my loaf of bread for two of your grilled fishes?’ Never expecting freebies and never being insulted when you don’t share your bounty with them even if they’re present while you eat. As long as you keep from using your primal senses visibly Progs are down to earth, sensible, and respectful. Not _all_ of them freak the fuck out if you teeth or flare. But many do. 

“Yeah, I get that. You’re too high up in the hierarchy for me to think otherwise.” Chad’s grin gets bigger. Dick’s startled by the statement, but can’t think of a way to ask what he means by that without making it sound like he doesn’t agree and nudge himself down from whatever elevated position Chad mentally has put him in. “Could you claw?” Chad asks hopefully. 

“No.” 

Chad holds up his hands placatingly. “Alright. It’s cool. It’s cool. Just asking.” 

Dick smirks. “No need to apologise. But I don’t want my hands aching while I have to spend my day writing.” 

“Totally get that, bro.” 

* * *

“...Hydroelectricity is the most widespread source of energy in the world. This process is based on the transformation of water masses energy into electrical energy. Such power plants usually―” 

“ _Fuck_! We forgot condoms!” Chad’s exclamation interrupts Dick’s second read through of the chapters. They’ve moved to the corner of the common room where the couches are. Chad’s sit-lying leaned against the armrest with Dick lying comfortably on top of him, back to chest. About every 20 minutes when Chad’s knot is about to go down they take a little break from reading to rile each other up a bit until Chad pops his knot again. It’s bliss. Dick hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this. It’s interesting now that he knows the biological mechanics behind the calm and content feeling that follows a knotting. It’s still a mystery to him why most morphological species have developed sex as a social tool the way humans have. Or why Heats and Ruts are such a physical bother. 

“I know. It’s not a problem. You can relax,” Dick soothes. 

“Man, I’m sorry, bro. I ain’t shirking any duties if I knock you up, but I’m not ready for the whole mating schtick.” 

Dick sniggers and lays the book down on the small table beside them. “The risk of that isn’t very great. And even if you do knock me up, it won’t keep for very long. I’ve been pregnant twice before and both times lost it within a month. It’s the scentless thing that does it,” he dismisses pleasantly. “It’s quite practical, really, delaying the Heat.” 

“ _Bro_.” Chad hugs Dick closer, smelling of distress. “Just thinking about knocking up an O and then _losing_ the kit gives me the jeebies. Is that why you broke up with your mate? He couldn’t handle the repeated loss? You were mated when you came here, right?” 

“I was. And he never knew. We weren’t living together. We just hooked up during my Heats. I can’t retain a mating bond for more than a few weeks and without it…” Dick makes a swiping motion from his belly and up, signifying loss of pregnancy. 

“That’s awful.” 

“Not at all.” 

“For him it oughta be. Or is he also scentless? No, he can’t be or I wouldn’t have smelled it on you when you came here. Technically, if he’s like normal people, he’s still mated to you, pining his ass off.” 

Dick smirks. “That’s the price you pay for giving your mate wanderlust,” he purrs. He’s more than happy they had foregone the condoms. It’s made Chad’s markings take so much better, wrapping him up like a hug from inside out. 

“I hope for his sake he never finds out he got you pregnant. A friend of mine back home knocked up his prom date. They weren’t mated or anything, but she lost it about a month in and he went completely mad with grief. He was partially noseblind, but he could smell her pregnancy and it just did things with his head. Hell, even I got excited jitters from it, like I was about to become an uncle or something. It took one whiff, knowing it was his, and suddenly we all were having a kit, you know? Scary as shit, but I was fucking ready to ditch college to care for both of them and I don’t even _want_ to be a father, you know?” 

Dick twists his neck so he can look Chad in the face. His golden eyes convey the confused feelings he had about it. “Maybe you’re a Packrunner at heart?” Dick muses. “Maybe that’s why you’re so close with Brad too?” 

Chad blushes, lips twitching with amusement. “Shaddap. I ain’t no Packrunning freak. Besides, I’m raised like a Prog. Converting to be a Primal is hard enough. Packrunners are the complete opposite of Progs.” 

“I don’t know about that. I knew a Prog that converted to Packrunning and he said Packrunners were the most similar to Progs. Or maybe you and Brad are simply Truemates.” 

Chad _giggles_ and blushes harder. “You’re a dick. There are no Alpha Truemates,” he mock-grumps with that smile twitching and hides his face by Dick’s cheek. “He’s just a bro from another O.” 

Dick’s about to reply when he catches a scent that’s been there for a while but he’s been too distracted to register. He looks towards the common room entryway. Crowley’s standing there watching them, cigarette held by his mouth and lighter raised but not yet fired up. “Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well after I left?” Dick asks. 

“Out like a light, love,” Crowley answers and finally lights his cigarette. He smells discontent. 

“Good. I know you needed your rest. So I went and found a cure for my fever,” Dick tells him with a pleasant smile. 

“I can see that,” Crowley answers curtly. “Shouldn’t you be needing this for that?” he asks and puts his lighter in a pocket and instead pulls up the handkerchief Dick had left lying on his bed. 

“What’s that?” Chad asks curiously. 

“Dick’s crush.” 

Chad reaches out in Crowley’s direction and makes a grabby hand motion. “Let me smell.” 

“No. Don’t,” Dick warns. But apparently, Crowley’s feeling rejected or something and is bitter about it. He comes up to them with a smirk and a waspish narrowing of his eyes and hands the handkerchief over to Chad before Dick has a chance to snatch the cloth from their hands. 

Chad sniffs it and grins. “ _Oooh_. The in-house O-bro has a thing for Mike, huh?” he teases and sniffs again. “No, wait. This is Luci. I can’t friggin tell with those two.” 

Dick snatches the handkerchief from Chad. “Give me that,” he grouses and cover his nose with it while throwing a side-eyed, resentful look at Crowley who’s looking way too smug. “I don’t have a ‘thing’. I just happen to think he smells good.” 

“He spent all evening yesterday with his nose in that and a moronic smile on his face. I’d say it’s love at first whiff,” Crowley tells Chad unhelpfully while keeping eye contact with Dick. It’s true that Dick’s kept himself burrowed in the scent until only a faint trace remained. But that doesn’t mean he wants everyone to know about it. 

“Then you’ve _got_ to come to the next kegster!” Chad enthuses. “Mike’s the one that organizes them and there’s gonna be one this weekend. Me and Brad are on the football team so we’ve got standing invitations. We can bring dates.” 

“If I come as your date it would be fairly useless if my motivation was another Alpha, don’t you think?” Dick points out. Something about that, strangely enough, makes Crowley’s scent change to pleased even if his expression doesn’t. Maybe it’s the implication that Dick would have the decency to leave with the same Alpha he came with, if on a date. To him, it’s the most natural thing in the world, but considering the bitch that had mocked Crowley’s knot, maybe not everyone is as respectful. 

“Bro. I’d introduce you. You’d be plus one, not an actual date.” 

Crowley offers his own two cents. “You’re better off not getting involved with those two self-inflated tosspots.” 

Chad laughs and swipes at Crowley. “Get out. They’re cool bros, okay?” he says mirthfully without any trace of animosity. 

Crowley dodges with a sidestep and scoffs. “They’re too full of themselves. Completely bonkers. Now, since you two lovebirds were up bright and early you could at least have put a kettle on,” he complains and goes to start the coffee maker. 

Brad comes shuffling into the room and spots them, brightening up. “Far out! Chad, you lucky bugger!” He holds up his hands like a frame and grins at them. “This is my aesthetics.” 

“Early bird gets the worm,” Chad chirps smugly, scent suddenly saturated with contentment. 

“ _Alpha True-maaates_...” Dick singsongs quietly. 

Chad giggles and blushes hotly again and Dick wonders if there are near perfect matches for the same gender as for Alpha/Omegas. It wouldn’t surprise him. Not after having lived with the European pack and seen the depth of love Alphas can have for each other. 

One by one the others file in to eat breakfast and reading is traded for chit-chat with their dorm-mates. Chad’s content either way since they’d finished one reading of the chapters. George asks Dick if he can bring some Omega named Felicia over. That’s another thing that started happening since Dick made that bitch pee herself and banned her from their dorm. The guys have started to ask permission from him before bringing dates. Not always. It happened often enough that they’d stumble in drunk, making out with somebody and disappear into their rooms. It’s strange, he thinks, since they check with him before (if they even bother) they check with their roommate. What’s he supposed to say? No? Hardly. But since they ask he tells them they can bring anyone as long as he or she treats them and the others with respect. They have enough arguments anytime the dishwasher is full and someone didn’t start it or neglected to remove the clean dishes, to bring strangers in to pick fights. 

* * *

“Can we scent you?” the woman asks. 

“Be my guest,” Dick invites amicably and tilts his head to offer his neck. He's low-key hating Crowley right now. He's sitting shirtless on a hospital bed feeling like a circus freak while Mr, no, _Doctor_ Montgomery and eight students study him like he’s a weird bug. He’s already been made to answer questions about his general well-being and emotional status. He’s been mostly honest, but skipped over anything related to the events when he lost his pack. The woman leans in and takes a careful sniff. 

“What do you smell, Sheila?” Montgomery asks. “List it for us.” 

Sheila leans in to sniff again. “I smell the Omega marker the most. It’s crystal clear compared to the rest. I can also smell hair and skin. But it’s generic. Like hair we’ve lost that has been lying around for too long. Like in a hairbrush that hasn’t been used for months. It doesn’t smell stale, but impersonal. Same with the skin. And…” She hesitates and meets Dick’s gaze uncertainly. 

“I’d make guinea pig noises if it’d help but I don’t know what they sound like,” Dick jokes. “Do go on, dear.” 

“Um, okay. He is sweating profusely and his glands are spontaneously secreting, indicating either disease or, um, Heat. The strange thing is that I can’t smell any of that. Being this close I can _feel_ the heat coming off him. His temperature must be elevated to around 102 degrees at least, but his eyes are clear and alert, hinting at him not being sick, but in Heat. That, and, um… I smell the residue of a very horny Alpha on him as well. I’d use that as a hint while diagnosing him.” 

Dick’s polite smile widens to a grin and several of the students giggle. 

“No. That’s impossible, Sheila. The books clearly state that an individual who loses their scent do so because the body shuts down. Heats and Ruts cease while somebody is scentless.” 

Dick turns his head to look at the handsome, snobby know-it-all of an Alpha who’d spoken. “As I’ve come to understand, your books also state that I died twenty years ago. So I urge you, do leave a little wiggle room for imagination in the margin,” Dick tells him with a benevolent expression. “You might learn something.” 

That rewards him with a round of sniggers and the Alpha (an indecently beautiful man for being such an asshole) narrowing his eyes at him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is the subject of your study not supposed to talk? Am I ruining your preconceived ideas by not following standard procedure?” Dick adds with an amused, flirty look in his eyes. It’s either that or punch the guy. And right now, while the second option is tempting, it would be inadvisable. 

“Mr. Roman is right, Sebastian. The books mention commonality. Heats and Ruts are normally the first functions to be shut down, before we even start to lose our scent. But Mr. Roman isn’t a common individual. There have been only three confirmed cases like him on record, a couple of more rumoured, but we rarely get to meet them in person,” Montgomery cuts in. 

“Why is that?” Dick asks. 

“You have been scentless since birth, correct?” 

Dick nods. 

“Can anyone tell Mr. Roman about what would have been the diagnosis if his parents had brought him in as a kit? Yes, Maya?” 

“Congenital depression. If the Omega is subject to famine, disease, or great mourning during the pregnancy she or he hasn’t produced enough bonding chemicals and the infant’s need for those is greater than usual when born. The Omega can’t in her state supply enough through breastfeeding and the shock of birth sends the kit into instant depression akin that of a lost bond. It’s been suggested that the kit might develop the depression already in the womb but we don’t know that due to not having been able to predict the condition to study it. A kit born without a scent is either cured within a few weeks or months by obsessive scent marking and closeness to its parents, or it dies within a year as internal organs shut down and stop functioning,” Maya rattles off. 

“Good, Maya. And why don’t we get to see many cases at hospitals?” 

“Because it’s a condition common to poor people who can afford medical help,” Sebastian the asshole supplies, rubbing it in. 

“Exactly. Well-off people also have incidents like this due to trauma like the loss of a mate. But the kits are cured quickly. Nannies will often be hired to supply what the Omega can’t. If a kit with congenital depression is born within a pack, no matter how well off the pack is they won’t bring it in for a checkup. Instead, the whole pack scent marks the kit and, the Omega will, and I’m warning you, this is highly controversial, will siphon the kit before breastfeeding.” 

Every single student in the room cringes is disgust or gasps. 

“They siphon a _kit_? That’s gross. That’s―” 

“Highly effective, I’ve been told. But, alas, I only have it on secondhand accounts,” Montgomery cuts in. It makes Dick think of Henry’s comment that Dick’s parents didn’t know how to deal with congenital depression. He wonders if that was what Henry was thinking of. 

“But how does anyone even come up with the idea? Like, ‘oh my little kitling is depressed, maybe some sexual molestation will help’,” an Omega in the back says upsettedly. 

Due to studying social biology Dick knows what they’re talking about. Siphoning is the base for sexualized bonding. If an adult needs to siphon a kit or Juvie (if in need to find out if they’re sick or poisoned for an instance) they’ll only siphon the air around the minor and it’ll give them the info they need to know. But many of the chemicals a Juvie produces are different than an adult’s and according to the literature, the experience is uncomfortable for both the adult as well as the unpresented. This goes for licking certain glands too, like the neck gland and the glands around the sexual organs. But it had come as a shocker to read that both Alphas and Omegas have glands capable of producing a soothing mix of hormones meant for kits on their nipples. Dick’s seen Alphas cradle kits to their chest in mimicry of breastfeeding a couple of times. He’d thought it was some sort of substitute for closeness to the Omega while the Omega was off working. Turns out it serves an actual purpose. Bodies are vastly more complicated than Dick had ever thought. 

“Only Packrunners would come up with such abhorrent ideas,” someone mutters. 

“Perhaps,” Montgomery concedes. “But siphoning is a known cure for scent-loss depression in adults. Could anyone tell me how scentlessness works?” 

“The body produces a chemical named dissimulotonin that blinds the olfactory receptors to what’s there. Masking the molecules, not removing them.” 

“Very good. Although, as Sebastian pointed out, when the depression is so severe that the body is shutting down we produce fewer and fewer hormones for the chemical to hide. Our ancestors had the ability to control the production of dissimulotonin and used it while hunting, or to sneak off and die if they were fatally wounded or sick, preventing pack members from being able to track them down. If you produce enough of this chemical it will soak through everything, masking outside sources of scent too, like markings. If Mr. Roman had such a high production you would not be able to smell the horny Alpha on him. Within fifteen minutes even a mating bond would be gone. Scent blockers are basically modelled after this chemical, but at this point, we can’t make scent blockers last for more than four hours and at outrageous prices. At this point, only the twenty-minute blocker is somewhat easier to produce, albeit illegal for civilians to own and purchase.” 

Dick almost forgets his discomfort, learning this. He leans forward and listens actively. He thinks of ‘Agent Porter’ who’d been scentless when they met at the Europeans’ death site. Maybe he truly wasn’t human and had controlled his scent? 

“The amount of dissimulotonin is also a good way of measuring the severity of depression in a patient. The less we can smell, the worse it is. We can ask questions that’ll give a good indication, like how long they can retain a scent bond for an instance. Mating bonds are easiest to measure since they’re the strongest. If a patient can’t retain a mating bond for a full day it’s critical and they need to be placed under 24-hour supervision.” 

“About two weeks for me, without re-establishing it,” Dick offers unprompted. 

“Very good. And you have your Heats, which point to you being in fairly good health, both mentally and physically, despite this condition of yours,” Montgomery says with a smile then directing himself at the students again. “Mr. Roman here is unique. He’s one of three known individuals in America who has survived to adulthood with an active production of dissimulotonin and the only one currently alive that we know of. The other two sadly didn’t last many months after they’d presented as Alphas.” He looks at Dick. “If we look at how we remedy severe depression the fact that you’re an Omega might be the reason you’ve persevered.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Well. When we get lone, scentless patients who’ve lost their mates for an instance, we institutionalise them for as long as needed. They get assigned at least two caretakers with personal scents that to some degree appeal to the patient. The caretakers mark the patient up frequently, lets the patient siphon them, and if the patient consent to it, knots the patient. The knotting has the same beneficial effects on Omegas and Alphas alike. Though no knotting and siphoning will be used on Juvies or kits. They all get to wear their caretakers’ used clothes and sleep, if not cuddled with them, in bedding that smells of them. The caretakers also mark up their room thoroughly. All these things physically tell the body everything is going to be alright and releases feel-good hormones. Naturally, it’s all combined with therapy sessions too.” 

“So basically you’re recreating a pack environment?” Dick asks. 

“Oh. Um. Yes, in a way you could say that. Humans, as well as wolfcats from where we stem, don’t handle loneliness and mourning well. Progs who’ve lived in closed communities for several generations stop relying on primal senses and eventually lose some of them. That makes them less susceptible to death by depression. The rest of us, Primals and Conservatives alike, will take the loss of scent bonds very hard. In a pack, nobody is ever alone or without a bond even if they lose a mate. It’s not a suitable lifestyle for everybody, and the one God does not approve, but having several bonds or even mates is in some cases life-saving. Even something as simple as knotting a stranger helps, especially when you don’t use a condom, although I don’t recommend that. It helps restore the chemical balance in the brain, and siphoning gets the necessary hormones shot straight into our bloodstream. It’s instant gratification, if you will, even if the cure is hardly instant. We remove patients from the critical status once their Heats or Ruts come back. After that, the risk is less of a relapse, and eventually, the brain stops the production of dissimulotonin so we can release the patient and only have them come in for ordinary therapy sessions.” 

They’re all listening intently now. “So why does it make a difference if one is a Juvie, Alpha, or Omega?” Dick asks curiously. It’s blowing his mind, in a way, to get an explanation to what his body is up to. 

“Kits and Juvies are surprisingly resilient and don’t have quite as strong needs for scent bonds after the first three years of their lives. They might fall prey to scent loss but are easier to cure. But our biological makeup changes drastically when we present. The mortality rate for untreated scent-loss depression in adults is about 70 % higher for Alphas.” 

“But _why_?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sebastian the asshole interrupts haughtily. “I’m going to sound very unprofessional now,” he says as if he hasn’t done so all the time, “but if I wasn’t mated and she’d be pissed off at me, I’d knot you just because I know you’re in Heat and don’t have a scent that puts me off. Walk into a group of Alphas and ask for a show of hands who’d help you alleviate your Heat discomforts and if they aren’t spoken for they’d put their hands up. As an Alpha, if I’d go to a group of Omegas and do the same thing they’d laugh at me. As an Alpha, you have to work hard to get laid. You, on the other hand, can get _treatment_ easily enough simply because of your gender,” he drones with the smug arrogance of someone who likes the sound of his own voice too much. 

Dick blinks at him. He really doesn’t like Sebastian but now he sort of wants the guy to knot him because he said he wouldn’t, just to put a spotlight on what a total asshole he is. But he’s got a point. “So… anytime I allow an Alpha to mark me or mount me, I’m treating my condition?” 

“Exactly,” Montgomery agrees. “Since you’ve said you aren’t depressed, I’m assuming your production of dissimulotonin works like any autoimmune disease, attacking your own body and might not be curable. Prolonged production will still try to shut down normal function. But as long as no hard tragedies befall you and you get other people to help, you could live a long, happy life. Dissimulotonin only masks scent, it doesn’t remove your own mix of chemicals, which means you can form mating bonds and if you sleep with someone they get the same physical reaction to coming into contact with your body fluids as they would if they could smell you. Now, will the rest of you scent Mr. Roman too, and we’ll discuss…” 

The lesson wears on and Dick listens and lets himself be made a spectacle of. They take tests. One of the tests constitutes of drawing blood (They can smell the blood. Montgomery tells them that if they can’t, it’s another tell for how severe a depression is. If you can’t smell the blood anymore you’re practically doomed.), another of milking his glands to put secretion in small, plastic vials. They even take a sample of his slick, but Montgomery offers to let him do it himself behind a curtain. It gives Dick a possibly mad idea. But he keeps thinking of the fear he felt when he almost stopped breathing before Crowley intervened. After the lesson he searches Sebastian the asshole out, falling into step beside him in a corridor. “So, your mate, does she go to school here?” 

“No, she works in the business district. Why?” he answers and keeps strolling down the corridor, looking through a notepad. 

“You said you’d offer to knot me if it wasn’t for her ire.” Dick walks by his side to talk. 

“Yes. She’s very into the whole Truemate schtick.” 

“You’re not?” Dick asks pretending curiosity. Of course, Sebastian isn’t, or he wouldn’t have complained about it earlier. 

“I’m into _her_. But I think it’s ridiculous with Truemates. I don’t care if she sits on a stranger’s knot or hate-bangs the noisy neighbour upstairs. It’s just a social activity that sets of thousands of chemical reactions in our body and affects everything from our immune system to mental health and social structure. We are _designed_ to interact physically and sexually with many people. We find someone we function well with that matches us next to perfectly physically and personality wise and we get mated. But to think there is just _one_ special person that is going to fulfil _all_ your needs for life is absurd. And if it was true, don’t you think it’s weird that you just so happen to find your Truemate living fairly close to you, in your own social class? Pfft,” Sebastian scoffs. 

“Divine planning, perhaps?” Dick suggests with a little quirk of his lips. 

“There’s nothing _planned_ about us morphological species at all, God or no God. We constantly change. We only have our basic DNA hampering us. We can’t turn into anything that isn’t already there, by all means. That’s why if you’re born missing an arm it can never grow out if the genetic coding is missing, but your reproductive DNA works to figure it out, so the longer you wait before having a kit, the more likely your kit will be to have two arms. So no. I believe in the One God as much as anybody but I also believe in science. And there's no scientific proof of Truemates.” Sebastian loves hearing himself give statements as if they were ultimate facts. Dick’s tempted to teeth and growl at him, but the handsome Alphas personality is what makes him a perfect target for Dick’s plan. 

“With other words, you could knot me.” 

Sebastian gives him one of those haughty looks. “Weren’t you listening? She’d get pissed, and it isn’t worth it.” 

“Ah. Yes. Naturally. But there’s one thing I don’t understand… how would she _know_?” Dick asks innocently and tilts his head, offering his neck to be scented and arching his eyebrow slyly. That’s what Laurent said when he dived right in to mount Dick alongside Peter. Dick’s scent doesn’t catch since he has none. Peter’s scent, Henry’s and Toivo’s had altered to smell mated, but not in a way that gave away to whom. 

Sebastian seems to realise this at that exact moment. He stops dead and turns to face Dick, giving him his full attention. 

“You’re curious,” Dick challenges amusedly. “Doctor Montgomery said the reactions are the same to the hormones I produce even though you can’t smell them. You don’t really believe him but you’re gagging to find out. And there’s just something special about knotting someone new. You’ve fought about that with your mate and you’re bitter about folding. You miss casual knotting even if you love her and wish to live your life with her,” he presses on. “But for me? My scent doesn’t catch. And she never comes here. Even if she did and smelled you on me, I’m a science project. You can say you offered me a vial with your secretion to siphon to help treat me. It’s impersonal enough from your side for her to accept and I’m officially part of a study you’re conducting…” he finishes off with a smirk, eyes sharp. 

Sebastian licks his lips, focused and smelling of excitement. “Brilliant. That’d work.” He narrows his eyes suspiciously, although his scent remains excited and positive. “But I know your kind. What do you want in return?” 

“Exactly what I mentioned. People respond differently to me depending on whom I smell like. You are a healthy strong Alpha and you smell like it. I want vials with secretion samples that I can siphon when I need them. A couple of empty ones too for future use should I need to collect samples from other people. In return, you can knot me, ...or fuck my brains out if you prefer. And she’d never know.” 

Sebastian looks around to make sure no one overheard, biting his lip. They’re alone in the corridor. “Is this a one time deal?” he asks when he looks back at Dick. 

“It doesn’t have to be. I imagine you collect secretion samples from healthy individuals coming for checkups. You could simply take two samples from those instead of one. I’m not picky about it being _your_ scent, or even an Alpha scent. As long as they’re healthy and happy…” 

“It’s a deal.” 

* * *

Sebastian might be an asshole but he’s an intense lover. Dick’s pretty sure the guy gets off on cheating on his mate and he lets Dick siphon while they’re at it locked into a seldom used storage room in the basement. It doesn’t sit all that well with Dick to be a dirty secret, but it's still good. Dick's sated and siphon-high when he comes home with three vials of Sebastian’s secretion and five empty ones in his pocket. He’d inconveniently forgotten how _high_ you get from siphoning. If he’d remembered he’d gone chasing for someone to siphon long ago, but it’s harder to convince people to agree to that than to get them to knot you. But this would most likely guarantee that he’ll never have his body shut down on him again as long as he kept a stock of vials to siphon when he starts feeling down. 

He’s whistling while he opens the door to their room and steps inside. Crowley’s cramming today too. It’s not terribly effective to study solely just before a test, and Dick feels a pang of worry Crowley will flunk. 

Crowley lifts his head to give him a nod in greeting, scents the air in his direction and is instantly ticked off - both judging by the discontent scent and the flat look on his face. Dick greets him. “Hello, dear, did your test go well today?” 

“Excellent, I presume. How ‘bout you, darling?” 

Dick’s amused by how their penchant for using impersonal endearments make them sound like an old mated couple. “Two tests in one day. I’d expected them to be harder. I was done well before time with the second one.” 

“I'm not surprised you know your onions with how you're always cramming. The second one was Lit?” Crowley asks and Dick nods. “That's hard cheese. Professor Zuckerman never lets you bug off until everyone’s done.” 

Dick sniggers and sits down in his chair, then scoots himself closer and turns so he can put his feet in Crowley's lap without asking. “Not me. He kicked me out.” 

Crowley raises his eyebrows in surprise and makes a ‘go on gesture’. He takes a cig from the pack on his desk and habitually offers Dick one before he lights it. Then he leans back and rests a hand on Dick's shin on his lap. Dick purrs his appreciation, turning Crowley's scent content. 

“I raised my hand and asked him if I was allowed to sit on a knot while I waited, to alleviate my Heat symptoms, and if perhaps _he_ could do me the favour since I was leaking soo much slick I'd soak any fellow student’s pants if I sat on them, which would be uncomfortable and make it harder for them to concentrate. He snapped his fingers, pointed at the door and told me to go.” Dick makes a smug face. “I could smell his arousal when I passed him to leave.” 

Crowley laughs. “Did you know he’s been accused of sleeping with students?” 

“I might have heard a rumour, yes.” It’s no wonder the professor wanted him gone, fearing the question alone would implicate guilt in the eyes of the other students. Sexual relations between student and teachers are strictly forbidden due to the risk of biased grading. 

“So today was your appointment with Montgomery, wasn’t it?” Crowley changes the subject while blowing smoke upwards. His hand finds its way inside Dick’s pants by the ankle, rubbing small circles right onto the skin. Dick ups his background purr a notch. 

“Yes, today I acted as the guinea pig you pawned me off as.” Dick smiles - a show of teeth declaring a hint of hostility about it. He still feels that Crowley tricked him into that. 

“Just looking out for you, love. Can they cure you?” 

Dick scrutinizes Crowley for a beat. He still knows very little about him, but something that Montgomery had said made Dick think about Crowley’s behaviour. He’s curious. He decides to give more truth than normally. “No. I was not happy about going down there, but I’ll admit it wasn’t a total waste of time. Montgomery diagnosed me with congenital depression, and believes my condition to be chronic and incurable like any other autoimmune disease, comparing it to allergy and asthma. He said that me, being an Omega, might be why I’m alive today since it means I automatically get the treatment I need to stop my body from shutting down. According to him, as long as no great tragedies befall me, I’ll be fine. They took several tests and I’m supposed to come down there for weekly checkups for the rest of the semester.” 

“Bollocks. At least it’ll help you secure the renewal of your scholarship.” 

“Indeed. So do you want to talk about it?” 

“What? Your scholarship?” Crowley asks with an amused smirk. 

Dick gives him a kindly smile. “The time you were institutionalized due to scent-loss depression,” he hedges as if he’s stating a fact he knows beyond any doubt to be true. It’s a wild shot. But the treatment Montgomery had spoken of had resounded with things Crowley had done for him. And he’d heard Crowley refer to his parents like ‘my so-called parents’, hinting at things not being like it should between them. Plus the whole money thing. Crowley goes out to party, yes, but he’s not a big spender. He calls his parents for more money too often claiming to be broke. Something fishy is definitely going on. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, love,” Crowley answers instantly with a lofty expression, but his scent is blasted with hints of a range of panicked emotions and he tenses up. 

“No? If you say so.” Dick pulls his legs back and gets to his feet. “I guess I should leave you to your cramming and go see if there’s someone else to bother in the common room.” He makes it to the door before Crowley speaks up. 

“If I tell you and you tell anyone else about me? No one in the history of torture's been tortured with torture like the torture you'll be tortured with. Got that, love?” 

Dick removes his hand from the door handle and turns around with a quirk to his lips. “Understood. And you don’t tell anyone about my past either, or I’ll have to read up on torture history to hold you to the same consequences.” 

Crowley smirks and motions for Dick to sit back down. “Deal. Sit. Have a fag.” 

As usual, Dick declines the proffered cigarette. He sits down and puts his feet back into Crowley’s lap, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “So. Scent loss?” 

“Mom sold me to a rich, kitless couple when I was five.” 

“That’s an option?” Dick wishes his parents would have gone with that from the get-go. Sold him to a kitless couple with the means to care for him. Maybe he would have been cured from the start and not doomed to be scentless for the rest of his life. 

Crowley takes a drag on his cigarette. “Yes. Adoption is a common practice in the UK. The black market for it is huge. There are many orphans in the wake of the war and kitless couples will pay good money for cute, healthy kits so they can play house. Others buy kits as labour. A kit only requires food and bonding as payment. I think most end up in child labour. Mum, though… She was poor but good at living like a doff. I queered her pitch. Zero nurturing instincts in that hag. She wanted to keep her pre-kit lifestyle, so she taught me how to read and pawned me off to a rich couple.” 

“She taught you how to read first?” 

“The difference between being sold as cheap labour or adopted by a family. Without it, she could have gotten a maximum of three pigs for me, but with reading skills?” Crowley shrugs. 

“That’s when you lost your scent?” 

Crowley shakes his head and makes a hand gesture for Dick to talk. “Your parents? You never talk about them.” 

Dick supposes it can’t hurt to trade truth for truth. “I was, like I’ve told you, born without a scent. We were homeless and I had two siblings. Mom was sick and it was exhausting for them to try to find resources, someplace to live, and keep me marked up properly since I couldn’t retain a proper bond. They talked about abandoning me when I was six. They didn’t, but they gradually stopped marking me, letting the bond fade. Hoping the family tree would self-prune. They figured since they didn’t have a bond with me, my death wouldn’t affect them much.” 

“But that’s not true, now is it?” 

It surprises Dick that he hasn’t thought about it. But like Montgomery pointed out, and Chad too, come to think of it, he forms bonds. Peter would very likely still smell mated right now. His parents must have had a clear parental bond in place that would have started to fade when they stopped marking him. They must have felt the loss of that bond too, not even knowing it. The idea is fiercely pleasing in a vindictive sense. “No… now that you mention it. Maybe the loss of my bond was the final nail in their coffin. A year after I’d heard them talk about abandoning me I’d taught myself to read and provided for myself by reading to people in exchange for food, clothes, and money. The rest of my family succumbed to starvation and disease and all had died by the time I turned ten.” 

“That family tree was self-pruning after all, cutting off the weak,” Crowley purrs and squeezes Dick’s ankle. 

Dick smirks. “Indeed. So your mom sold you?” Dick prompts. 

“I was gutted when mum sold me, but they were chuffed about having me, and life got better for a while. Got more love than I ever had before. Got over her quickly enough.” 

“But something happened…?” 

“Naturally. Biology threw a spanner in the works. My new parents had been trying to get up the duff for years unsuccessfully. That’s why they bought me. But then, two years into my new life with them, my new mum got pregnant. A real miracle that,” Crowley says with a bitter twist to his lips. “Suddenly their bought and paid for chav-kit wasn’t so interesting anymore. My sister Abbadon, _Abby_ , was born and stole my world before I could grasp what was happening.” 

“They abandoned you?” 

Crowley shrugs. “Shipped me off to boarding school. That’s when depression hit me. Rather than taking me home they dumped me into an institution instead, afraid my condition would affect Abby negatively somehow. Took about four months for my scent to return. But since then I’ve barely been home. I ring them, go home for holidays and all that tosh. But my last decade I’ve practically lived in schools, not counting the four months I spent locked up for depression. Chose a college overseas to have an excuse for not going back home more than necessary. I’m sick of hearing about all of Abby’s mediocre achievements. They pay for it all, and I don’t fancy having it rubbed in anytime I go home and have to meet the red-haired demon who claims to be my sister.” 

“So that’s why you milk them for money… you don’t know how long it’s going to last, and with Abby in the picture, you can kiss any heritage goodbye.” 

“Bingo. They’re still posh sods with a good name for me to ride, and they’re the ones who told me to call them mum and dad. They made a deal to be my parents and they broke it, so they’re bloody well gonna pay for it in money.” 

“I agree with that line of thinking.” 

“So. Tell me about the pofter that knocked you up but didn’t stick around to care for you,” Crowley bids him, proving he’d overheard Dick’s conversation with Chad this morning. 

“Oh, you heard that? I was wondering how long you’d been standing there.” 

Crowley suddenly scowls and points to his bed with discontent clear in his scent. “I was _right there_ , and you go ask Tweedle Dumb to knot you.” 

Dick withholds a snigger. “My Heat hit after you’d gone to sleep already and I knew you needed to rest before the exams. It would have been selfish to keep you awake. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t search Chad out. He was just there when I got to the common room, freaking out about today’s tests. We both needed the calm that came with letting him knot me. Did you know he’s raised as a Prog?” 

Crowley calms down, discontent evaporating as soon as Dick gives the explanation to why he didn’t ask Crowley to knot him. His jealousy is oddly pointed. “Yes. I’ve got the dirt on everybody in this dorm except you. Now, tell me about your mate?” 

Dick makes a dismissive gesture. 

“No. Quid pro quo, love. I told you about me.” 

“I supposed that’s fair. My ex-mate who knocked me up is Packrunning trash who belongs to the biggest pack in the slums, the Hale pack, possibly biggest in the city altogether. He’s in line to become the new Patriarch. He was the first Alpha I slept with and even without siphoning him we developed a mating bond by spending a single Heat together. His Main does not approve of me, though, so he kept away between Heats. I lost my pregnancies when our bond faded. He never knew about it. Why tell him?” 

“You’re a Packrunner?” 

“No. They’re all trash and I want as little to do with them as possible. Packrunners are always trouble.” 

“We can agree on that point. They can’t think a single thought for themselves without checking with their precious pack first. Won’t bring anyone home unless _everybody_ agrees to the invite, and are too full of themselves. You feel like causing trouble for that Main who denied you?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” 

“In that case, darling, tell your Hale about you losing his kits,” Crowley says, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing out smoke upward. 

“You think Peter would care? I never kept for more than three weeks.” 

“Trust me, love, it’ll raise hell. I should know, I’m the king of hell,” Crowley answers with a self-satisfied smirk, eyes narrowed like a cat with a bowl of cream. 

“I’ll think about it.” Dick’s sceptical it’ll make any difference. But if Crowley’s right and Peter gives a damn, then maybe he should let him know. Dick’s ready to do anything to get back at Malicia. It would mean he’d have to go back to the slums. But he supposes that if he’s only stopping by to visit, it doesn’t really count as going back. Besides, the day of the Pyre is not too far off. If nothing else, he could go there to celebrate and if he crossed paths with any Hale, he could get the message through somehow. 

He purrs his appreciation for Crowley… 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing wonderful awesome comments you've been leaving on this story! The whole verse just tickles the science part of my brain and here I was thinking I was gonna write porn. x) Whattaya know, right?


	11. A Self-entitled Brat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's settled into his new life now. He's got friends in a way he never used to while living in the slums. Studying is going well. He's quite content with things as they are and decides he doesn't need the added hassle of mooning for a scent, as it'd only cause unwanted problems.
> 
> But some problems won't let themselves be avoided.

### Mind versus Body

“Can I talk to you, Sir? In private?” Jeff asks nervously catching Dick in the corridor.

“Of course,” Dick answers amicably with a smile. He and Jeff rarely speak. Jeff is something of a recluse. Even when he's in the common room he keeps to himself. Dick thinks he can count the sentences they've said to each other since he threw that bitch who peed herself out, on one hand. (With the exception of this morning.) He's curious what Jeff might want and follows the older Alpha into his room. He's got one of those single rooms just by the entrance of the wing. It's tiny but at least he doesn't have to share.

Jeff's older than most of them with his 27 years but at times seems younger due to a generally submissive air. Dick doesn't know if he started college later because he’d done other things before, or if he just presented late. One thing’s for sure, Jeff is a nester. This small room with a bed and a desk, has been decorated to feel inviting and at home. Thick rug, actual paintings on the wall, a wall mounted TV (!!!), blanket and throw pillows on the bed. Curtains. Framed photos and a laptop on the desk. Jeff offers Dick to sit down at the desk then sits down on the bed facing Dick, rubbing his thumb nervously with his other hand. “I, uh… can you promise not to tell anyone else what we talk about?”

“Unless you’re about to reveal a threat to anyone I care for, your secrets are safe with me.” 

Jeff huffs and smiles at his lap. “No, it’s about me,” he says and stares at his lap where his thumb is getting rubbed in a self-soothing gesture. 

“Then I won’t tell anyone,” Dick assures him and patiently leaves a pause for Jeff to fill. He throws a look at the framed photos on the desk while waiting and is startled by what he sees. They’re not family photos like he’d expected. They are pictures of Jeff in uniform, red cross visible on his sleeve. One picture with a bunch of grinning, impoverished black kits climbing all over him in front of a bombed out house in the desert. Another picture of him, tired and so dirty he and his uniform are equally covered in mud, the red cross only partially visible. He’s cradling a traumatised wolfcat cub to his chest like a kit and it’s holding onto him, front legs around his neck and head tucked in under his chin.

Jeff sees him look at it. “The mudslide in the Midwest two years ago.”

“Did it survive?”

“I hope so. The pack showed up shortly after the picture was taken. I thought we were gonna be killed but they made all these noises that sounded very much like human primal noises. I’m willing to swear under oath the cub told the others what had happened and when I put the cub down in front of the mother her purr before they left was _exactly_ like an appreciative human purr. Some tell me I’m humanizing them, but they _weren't there_. I know what I saw and heard. That’s why I’m here. We Progs often talk about Primals being little more than animals, completely unpredictable and ruled only by instinct. But having seen actual animals display such advanced intelligence I can’t dismiss the erratic behaviour of Primals as animalistic. I live to help people. I want to understand them better. So I convinced the Red Cross to pay for my education.” Jeff’s nervousness bleeds away slightly while he talks.

It’s amazing how the most boring and reclusive man in the dorm might be the one with the most fascinating stories to tell. But he didn’t ask Dick to come in here to talk about the adventures he must have experienced. His words just flow easier when he talks about his home turf. “I guess college life must make you feel like a fish out of water, huh?”

Jeff laughs and rubs his neck self-consciously. “You could say that again. Drop me into any crisis zone to clear up the aftermath and I know exactly what to do. Everything’s shaved down to the basics and everyone tries very hard to get along. But here? Surrounded by a bunch of rich kits who’ve never experienced real trauma in their life? All the sudden rules of conduct apply and it takes one wrong word to mortally offend someone Primal. There’s so much scheming going on and everyone are happily exploring who they are, finding out who they want to be without a care in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t see fault in that. If everyone in the world could grow up in that same carefree manner I’d be happy. I’m not one of those people who want to punish those who don’t suffer, I want those who do suffer, to get better lives. Shit, I’m babbling. Look.” He rubs his hands over his thighs as if his palms are sweaty. Dick can smell that he’s sweating nervously - salt and vague distress. “I too want to explore myself just like any other. There’s something wrong with me. Always has been. I know it, and I hoped it’d go away with age, that I’d conform. But…” He heaves a sigh. “I wanted to talk to somebody about it. I don’t know who. I figured you’d be a good person to turn to. Since you’re a Primal Omega, have seen enough shit to be open-minded. Plus you’re a guy. Shit, this is awkward.”

“Someone told you I’ve seen a lot of shit?”

“What? No! No, that’s… It’s just the way you conduct yourself, and in your eyes. Plus your scentlessness. I might be wrong. I’m sorry if I offended you, Sir.”

Jeff’s called him Sir since he threw the bitch out and Dick likes it. “Not at all, dear. I was simply curious as to if anyone is talking shit about me behind my back.”

Jeff shakes his head. “Not that I know of. Anyway, since you’re a Primal, but overall fairly level-headed, I figured maybe you could help me.”

“Level-headed, huh? I seem to recall you telling me to tone down the ‘monster’ just this morning,” Dick challenges with a small, amused smirk.

Jeff winces and chuckles in embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that. But I’d just woken up and what you, Chad and Brad were doing looked too much like some of the senseless acts of violence I’ve seen and I didn’t realise you were having sex right away. You guys scared me. All that growling and biting...”

“There’s a world of difference in how we’d look and sound if our intent was violent and what we were doing.” When Dick went to the common room this morning at 4:30 AM not to wake Crowley up, Brad and Chad had been there waiting. Apparently, Brad wanted to show Chad a real courting. Both of them were hedonistic by nature, but from what Dick’s come to understand, the hookups at parties don’t quite follow procedure. So Dick stepped inside the door and was instantly greeted by Brad deep-purring at him, canines teethed and eyes flared. A hearty breakfast had been placed by a table and when Dick made his way to it Brad followed behind, deep-purring while Chad sat nearby watching excitedly. Dick wasn’t particularly hungry due to his Heat, but he played along. He ate, growled in warning anytime Brad tried to get too close until he’d finished the meal, then exposed his neck with a purr to let Brad approach. They were going old school, true Primal style where words weren’t part of the game. Brad rubbed his nose against his ear-gland, making him purr harder in arousal while dropping fangs and flaring. He pushed his chair aside and leaned against the table legs spread wide, wordlessly allowing Brad to open his Omega pants and mount him then and there. Naturally, it had escalated. Three horny individuals letting instinct guide them? The whole thing had made Dick nostalgic for the Europeans and though he’d sworn he didn’t want anything to do with Packrunners, he didn’t see any fault in coaxing Brad and Chad to act like them. They practically were anyway, with their shared excitement over that only one of them got to knot him.

So Dick had played up his Primal behaviour, keening his purrs, growling and urging Brad on, all while coaxing Chad to come join them. By the time Jeff came into the room all three of them had been on the couch together. Dick at the bottom face to face with Brad, while Chad was grinding Brad, sandwiching him, biting loosely at his neck. Chad was still clothed―they weren’t actually knotting each other like the Europeans would have―and Brad was caught between growling threats á la ‘keep away from my Omega’ like Toivo would do, and making another growly, encouraging noise to spur Chad on. The room was saturated with the heavy scent of their aggressive arousal. Then Jeff walked in barely awake, saw them, shrieked in fright then went straight into an angry rant telling them to tone down the monster and act like fucking humans or go to their room. Chad was instantly shamefaced about it while Brad was awkward about letting Chad hump him. Dick would have been more annoyed with Jeff if the smell of fear hadn’t remained so clear around him while he went to get his coffee and breakfast. On top of it all Chad and Brad had been pretty awkward with each other during the day and Dick hoped it wouldn’t turn sour just because Dick’s got a thing for Alpha on Alpha.

“I know that. I just have trouble discerning what means what when it comes to you Primals. Ask any Prog and they’ll tell you about many instances where we’ve been talking to a Primal, getting along great, and suddenly they’ve dropped fangs and growled at us, ready to start a fight for no reason... I’m sure there _is_ a reason but we don’t know why and it makes things… it’s frightening. Especially considering that Primals are the only ones you see suddenly get into a violent fight, looking like they’re about to kill each other, then the next moment just stop, dust each other off and continue their conversation. I’m not a fighter, so yeah… it scares me.”

“I don’t actually identify as a Primal,” Dick starts, then has to huff in amusement at Jeff’s stow-your-bullshit look. “I don’t identify as anything right now,” he corrects himself. “Other people dub me a Primal or lenient Conservative. Personally, I’ve always preferred Progs. Aside from your hangups about Primal senses, that is. I’ve never understood why you’re so against using them. Maybe you could clear that out for me?”

“Oh. Yes. It’s about not being ruled by your instincts, but making your own choices based on common sense. I don’t know how often I’ve seen people do stupid things and go against their decisions based on an urge caused by a scent, and ended up regretting it. The biological imperative doesn’t go well with reason and the more you rely on what your body tells you, the more you get to suffer from it. That’s why we don’t siphon or suck on glands during sex for an instance. The whole love at first whiff is a dangerous thing. People go mad for a scent and the scent belongs to an asshole and suddenly you’re stuck in a destructive relationship, instead of letting feelings grow out of mutual respect. Secretion is basically a drug and you can get as addicted to somebody’s mix as you can to any other drug. Who you are, your personality, is caged and enslaved by bio-coercion.”

It’s funny because Henry had talked about this too - how a physical match doesn’t mean a good match, and he was as far as you’d get from a Prog. “Some would claim our physical makeup is as much a part of our personality as our mind is,” Dick states with a curious expression, signalling that he’s open to being refuted.

Jeff smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “That’s where we’d have to agree to disagree. Just look at how the guys around here changed their behaviour the moment they found out you’re in Heat. Personally, I find it dehumanizing the way Alphas will ignore Omegas until they’re in Heat and all the sudden they’ll turn into giant knotheads and won’t leave said Omegas alone. Or Omegas who normally wouldn’t pay a guy the time of day will suddenly be desperate to be knotted by him because he happens to be near. Sex is nice and good and fun, but the _drive_ to have it is causing an unfair hell. And don’t get me started on what Conservatives say about Alphas being above Omegas. That just dumb. Leaders reveal themselves and are born or created by their circumstances no matter what sex or gender they have. Just look at yourself. The way you declared yourself the one to set the rules in our wing without anyone challenging that. According to the Conservative scripture, you’d have to have an Alpha above you no matter how capable you are just because of your gender.”

“I don’t remember having declared myself a leader?”

Jeff grins. “That night you threw out that girl. You said she was banned from the wing and said nobody was allowed to disrespect _your_ boys while you gestured at all of us. You were quite a sight. You looked ready to kill without hesitation but your expression and posture were that of a commander. I might be a Prog, but even I know that if anyone wanted to challenge that authority they would have done that then and there.” He takes a deep breath. “But what I wanted to talk to you about… Look. About this morning?”

“Mhm?”

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with Alpha on Alpha or Omega on Omega?”

“Nothing whatsoever. As far as I know not even the strictest Conservatives oppose it.”

“No. No, it’s just not as common as it once was.”

“So is that it? You think there’s something wrong with you because you like Alphas?” Dick hedges.

“What? No.” Jeff huffs a little laugh at his lap and rubs his hands against his thighs again. “Not at all. I’ve had my share of Alpha hookups. They don’t quite do it for me beyond a nice pastime. No, no, I like Omegas. Guys or girls, I’m into Omegas. But I―” he suddenly stops dead and looks up like he’s struck with a horrible thought. “Shit, you’re gonna think I’m propositioning you. I’m not. That’s not why―” He seems to realise Dick might take offense or be hurt by not being propositioned. “Not that I wouldn’t mind― You’re hot as hell and― _Fuck_. This was a mistake. Nevermind.” He starts to stand up, every ounce of his scent and body language screaming ‘abort mission’. “Just forget I ever―” 

“Stop. Sit. Keep talking,” Dick commands. “You said you needed to talk to me and you will. If you do proposition me I’m fully capable of saying yes or no. If you’re not, then it’s not a problem.”

Jeff sinks down to sit on the bed again. “Yes, Sir.”

Dick really appreciates the submission. One day he’ll be working on a company in a position where everyone will be as submissive and afraid of his judgement. He won’t have to drop fangs and flare, not do any posturing, they’ll fear his judgement anyway. “So. You think there’s something wrong with you. You’re into Omegas, but…?”

Jeff takes a deep breath and lets it out again. “Look. Primals often scare me, right? But at the same time some of the things you, _they_ do are the hottest things I know.”

“So you find the whole flaring, biting, dropping fangs bit arousing despite how it scares you. That’s the problem?”

“Yes, but not quite. This is so awkward to talk about. Look I’ve had my share of affairs with both Omegas and Alphas. I’ve really _tried_ to conform. To get turned on by the right things. But I’m not. I’m fully capable of getting a boner and use it like I should no matter who my partner is, so that’s not the problem. I just… I’ve met a lot of Omegas I want to sleep with but not a single one I want to knot.” He stares at Dick, willing him to understand.

Sadly, the point is lost on Dick and all he feels is confusion. “I’m not quite following…?”

Jeff closes his eyes, cheeks heating up and a bitter sting of mourning lacing through his nervous scent. “I, uh… The hottest thing I know… I’ve never been able to stop thinking about it. I picture an Omega coming onto me, deep-purring, biting at my neck, eyes flared and fangs dropped. And I just… The idea has me wanting to drop pants and just, _present_. I’ve tried everything, but, uh, none of my sexual relationships has left me feeling anything but unfulfilled. I don’t know how to describe it, I uh…”

It’s the mourning in Jeff’s scent that clues Dick into this being something else than a kink thing. “You feel something akin a female Omega born in the body of a male Alpha?”

Jeff opens his eyes. His blue eyes appear bluer than before despite not flaring solely because he’s blushing so hotly. Once again he appears so young and vulnerable it almost hurts. “I guess you could say that. I don’t know how to change it.”

“I don’t see why you should. It limits your choice of partners quite a lot since only male Omegas like me can fulfill your needs. And it’ll be even harder to find someone if you don’t want to compromise since you’d need to find someone with the same but opposite mindset. Otherwise, you could switch roles. I’m sure there are lots of male Omegas out there willing to play at being Alphas once in a while as long as they get to be knotted, especially during their Heats. But if you get off on being courted the Primal way we need to get you educated in primal communication so you can differentiate between _grrr_ and **grrr** as well as the finer subtleties of teething, because Progs won’t be able to do it right. Maybe you can use your connection to the Red Cross to get in contact with somebody from high up in the Nordic countries? They’re all Packrunners over there and nobody has such an advanced primal language as they do. I know for a fact that at least some are willing to teach even Progs how it works. Have you tried placing a personal ad on Craigslist, looking for someone like-minded?”

Jeff’s expression changes from pained and vulnerable to wondrous while Dick speaks. “You think there are others like me? You don’t think I’m a freak?”

“I’m positive you’re not alone feeling like this. And I take it you haven’t exactly advertised how you feel to your partners in the past?”

Jeff shakes his head. “No. Alphas are almost always up for it, but they don’t really do it for me. And Primal Omegas are so hard to talk to. Like I said, they can go from friendly to tell you to fuck off in a heartbeat but you don’t know what you did wrong.” He’s getting excited, eyes filling with hope. 

“Mh. I can tell you that most likely you didn’t offer them anything, devaluing them by not giving them anything in return for their attention. I take it that you’re most drawn to strong, independent Omegas?”

Jeff nods. 

“Then you need to catch their attention, proving that you’re worth their time of day. I’ll try to break it down for you. The deep-purring? It’s a declaration of interest. If he is strong and independent he’ll ignore you for a while even if he likes your scent. You just follow and keep it up while flaring, showing that you know that he _should_ be interested in you because you’re worth it. Eventually, he’ll stop and either tell you to fuck right off or give you attention. If he doesn’t tell you to piss off you need to offer something as a gift. Food, drink, or an useful item. Never money unless you’re out to _actually_ buy sex, in which case I could show you to a certain district in the slums but then all these procedures are moot.” It’s strange trying to break down behaviour that comes naturally in this way. But since he started his education he’d found himself developing an interest in all the ways people related to each other, whether it be psychology, biology, or social norms.

“Why is there a difference between paying for sex in food or money?” Jeff asks with a troubled wrinkle between his brows, giving Dick his full attention.

“Because you’re not paying for sex with food when you’re courting a Primal Omega, you’re flaunting your assets. You’re showing him you’ve got it made, and have enough to spare to care for another individual too. If he accepts your drink or whatever, you have only ‘bought’ the right to flirt. That’s it. Even if you’re just out to have a one night stand, the food part of the ritual is to show that you’re good mate material who can and will take care of him when he’s pregnant or with kit. So basically, for you, when you’ve gotten him to sit down to have a drink with you, that’s your chance to present your wish. Progs are a lot easier to deal with I think. I appreciate the simple, straightforward bartering. Primals can at that stage be just as straightforward if not even blunter than any Prog would ever be. Just keep a flirty smile, teeth your canines and tell him you’re attracted to him. Tell him you’ll knot him and take care of him if he wants, but what you really would like is for him to fuck you as a Primal Alpha would do. He might turn you down but he won’t turn hostile since you’ve shown you understand his value and respect him. Unless you get in contact with him via a personal ad in the paper or something like that, I don’t think you can get out of doing the first bit of the courting ritual from an Alpha perspective, though.”

“If that’s what’s needed I don’t mind. And you think there are male Omegas that’d be up for this even if they aren’t wired wrong like me?”

“Wired _differently_ , dear. Scratch that idea that there’s anything wrong with you. And yes. I’d be tempted myself, if I currently wasn’t in the peak of my Heat and ready to present to you just because you happen to be near,” Dick jokes with a wink, reconnecting to what Jeff said a moment ago. “But since you’ve told me you don’t stimulate glands while having sex and don’t actually want to knot me, I’d rather leave you to your thoughts right now and go find myself a knotheaded Alpha who’ll happily knot me and allow me to read up on the next chapter of Social Biology while he’s going at it.”

Jeff laughs. It’s a short, relieved laugh with an edge of hysterics, and his scent is content and filled with happiness. “Yes, Sir. And thank you. I’ve felt like I needed to talk to somebody or I’d explode. I hadn’t expected you to actually do something about it, or thought there was a solution.”

Dick gets up. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out one way or another.”

Dick has no idea how he managed to make himself the one to approach when needing help with sensitive issues. Like Chad, bringing up his dyslexia and his confusion about converting to a Primal lifestyle. But he thinks helping Jeff will be an investment. He’s not sure how yet. He feels pretty damned pleased. He says goodbye and goes to his room. Crowley’s naked on the bed with another Omega and Dick’s good mood evaporates. He sends Crowley a disgusted glare and turns on his heel, leaving again. Instead, he knocks on the room opposite theirs. Brad opens and lets him in with a big grin.

* * *

Dick decided not to go to the kegster. He decided to avoid the Alpha house altogether. As much as he’s curious to meet the elusive Mike and Lucifer he reminds himself he's there to get a degree, not to sleep around. The last thing he needs is to get hung up on another Alpha. Once his Heat had passed the drive to meet the wonderful scent he’s bewitched by goes down to a level of wistful pining he can easily stand. In fact, he hopes that he never gets to meet them. If he can avoid that troublesome scent for the rest of the duration of his education, it would be perfect.

Life isn’t perfect.

It’s late Friday evening and he’s walking down the corridor after having showered and scrubbed himself clean of the scent he’d siphoned from a vial today. Borrowing people’s scents is practical, but he prefers to be scentless before bedtime, opting for the comfort of smelling Crowley on his sheets.

There are three guys that don’t belong in this wing walking towards him. They’re boisterous and drunk off their asses, laughing and joking, unsteady on their feet. Dick recognises one of them as Michael, the good-looking, dark-haired Packrunning piece of trash that had come to investigate his pack distress call that day in Social Biology. Dick flares his nostrils and scents in their direction as he walks and suddenly stops dead in his track. One of them is the owner of the scent he'd gotten hung up on. It's not hard to put two and two together. Michael is ‘Mike’ - as in Mike and Lucifer.

Dick's heart beats madly, his cheeks feel hot. The loose T-shirt he's wearing feels constricting. He steps aside towards the wall to give them space to pass. He barely sees the other two with how intensely he's focused on Mike coming towards him. Perfect, white teeth flashed in a smile to his companions, scent reeking of prosperity and health and alcohol. A hint of cigarette smoke. A limber body of perfect proportions. The face of a model. Maybe a bit too slim for Dick's tastes if his taste wasn't completely overridden by that gorgeous scent. 

The company comes up beside him and just as they're passing by Mike throws him a glance, nostrils fluttering, a tell that he’s scenting. A half a second of a moment where their eyes meet and Dick forgets to breathe. Then eye contact is lost and they’ve passed. Dick’s reeling from butterflies and nerves.

Two steps ahead Mike stops, turns on his heel and Dick’s suddenly pinned to the wall while Mike rubs his temple glands against the side of his neck and cheeks. As if the explosion of scent assaulting his senses isn’t enough, the sheer _rudeness_ of the act is astounding. Dick’s torn between outrage―wanting to roar and claw at the self-entitled fuckface―and keen in delighted submission, to just relax and let Mike do whatever he wants. The conflicting emotions paralyze him. Mike’s companions laugh, finding it all funny. “Oh dear. Somebody’s taking liberties,” Dick says with lowered eyelids and an amused smirk, feigning cool.

Mike stops marking him to look him in the eyes with a bewildered expression, hazel-green eyes wide. “I… I apologise. I don’t know why I did that,” he says dazedly before backing up towards his companions.

They’re practically howling with laughter, slapping his back and pulling him along. “What the fuck was that, Mikey?” one of them laughs. “You gone totally off the rails?”

Mikey turns his back to Dick and staggers away, chuckling. “I don’t know, I―” he starts to answer, then cuts off mid-sentence with a hint of distress in his scent. “No. This isn’t right.” Again he turns on his heel and Dick finds himself pinned to the wall for the second time. This time Mike definitely knows what he’s doing and is doing it with determination. He holds Dick by the hip with one hand and fists Dick’s hair with his other, bending Dick’s neck to the side, pulling them flush to rub his neck against Dick’s. Dick can feel the oily secretion from Mike’s ear gland smear onto his skin. It’s like throwing a match at gasoline. He’s producing slick and trying not to gasp, head spinning and heart pounding. “I’m so sorry. What happened to you?” Mike asks while claiming him as thoroughly as Peter’s ever done. 

“Apart from a random, drunk Alpha molesting me, you mean?” Dick answers sarcastically while at the same time angling himself so Mike’s better slotted between his legs.

“Fuck, I’m sorry but it needs to be done,” Mike answers without stopping, bending Dick’s head back so he can reach his throat. Dick _hates_ him. This is what Jeff’s talking about―what Progs are talking about. His mind is telling him to headbutt the asshole but his body is begging for him to present, to submit and let himself be wrapped up in Mike’s scent. Biological coercion. The conflict between the two has Dick in a physical deadlock, leaving him passive while the other two drunk Alphas are laughing their asses off. 

“ _Bro!_ ” Mike’s torn off Dick by his collar, stumbling backwards with flailing arms. Chad and Brad are there, both pulling Mike off and catching him, preventing him from falling backwards.

“Bros don’t let bros act like jerks.”

“That’s our in-house O-bro, Mikey, you gotta show him respect.”

Brad turns his attention to Dick. “You okay, bro?”

Dick nods bemusedly and stares at the piece of Packrunning trash currently trying to explain himself to Chad.

“No, no, you don’t understand, Chadster. I had to do it! He’s scentless. You can die from that shit. I gotta fix him,” Mike argues and gestures haphazardly in Dick’s direction, the distress in his scent clear now.

“Dick’s _fine_ , bro.” Chad chuckles and looks at Dick. “Tell him, Dicky.”

Dick lets his eyes twinkle with mirth, meeting Mike’s alcohol glazed, upset gaze. “I can assure you, I’m perfectly fine, not counting your well-meaning assault. It’s a birth defect, not trauma induced.”

“See? Told you, Mike, Dick’s fine.”

“Except for what you did. Not cool, bro. Not cool.”

“And you two! Stop laughing. The fuck did you let Mike do that for? Totally uncool, non-bro worthy.”

While Chad and Brad turn their attention to scolding the other two strangers Mike keeps his attention on Dick. “You’re fine?” he asks, unconvinced and drunkenly swaying on his feet now that nobody’s holding onto him.

“Mhm.”

“Sorry. I―” Mike suddenly perks up. “Hey, you want to join us and go for a couple of beers?” he suggests and smiles a totally unforgivably unfair smile.

“Dear me. I’d say you’ve had enough to drink for the both of us, so I think I’ll have to pass for now. Shockingly, considering the grace and charm with which you’re conducting yourself with,” Dick smirks.

Mike chuckles sheepishly. “Alright. That’s fair.” He looks away at the others. “You guys ready to roll before I end up making an even bigger tool out of myself?”

The guys agree and head for the wing entrance. Chad stops beside Dick for a beat. “Hey, I’m sorry about that, bro. Mike’s a really cool guy normally. He’s just a bit drunk. Promise, he’s not always like that. You know how it is, right?” he says looking contrite.

“Don’t fret. I’m sure you’re right. Now hop along and have a nice evening.”

“You too, bro.”

Dick watches the group retreat, insides a jumble. Just by the door Mike turns around, grins at him, and flares only one eye in a strange sort of primal wink. It sets off another burst of butterflies. He waits until the door has closed behind them before he takes a deep breath of Mike’s heavenly smell coating his skin. The guy’s both a self-entitled asshole and a Packrunner―double trouble―and he should be feeling outraged. But his whole body is fizzling with happy bubbles. He lets out a delighted trilling noise and grins, turning around with a little skip to continue to his room. Only to find Crowley leaning on their door frame, unlit cigarette in mouth and lighter halfway raised and frozen in position, watching him. When their eyes meet Crowley scowls. “ _Bollocks_ ,” he says and walks into their room.

* * *

“Wipe that moronic smile off your face, love. Nothing good will come out of getting mixed up with Mike.”

“He was drunk. He’s probably not that bad while sober.” Dick lies on top of his covers with his eyes closed and a broad smile on his lips, stroking himself slowly, not giving a shit about the pissy Brit facing him, sitting on a chair beside the bed smoking, smelling both aroused and discontent. Dick thinks Crowley’s absolutely right, but he’s also all stirred up in the best of ways and determined to enjoy it before reality catches up and he gets angry about how he was treated.

“Being smashed lowers your inhibitions, it doesn’t change your personality. The only thing good about Mike is that he isn’t as bad as his red-eyed nob of a brother.”

“You’re the one who said I should go out more and socialize. Go to their parties. Get contacts.” Dick would be embarrassed by jerking off in front of Crowley if Crowley hadn’t shamelessly jerked off in front of him so many times. On the contrary, now he feels like laughing, because every time he lets out a soft gasp or swipes some precome with his finger to lick it up Crowley’s scent gets hit by another wave of arousal and discontent. 

“Yes, but I didn't expect you to lose your marbles over those two like every Martha, Sue, and Jenny on campus. You were doing so well, darling. Winding the Tweedle Bros around your finger for starters. I’m sure even the Tuesday-wanker will be useful to you.” That would be Sebastian, who Dick now hooks up with every Tuesday after his checkups. Crowley hasn’t met him, but he loathes him anyway. Anytime he smells Sebastian on Dick his mood turns foul.

Dick squeezes his dick and gasps, hearing Crowley blow out smoke sharply in response. “Are you jealous, dear? You're welcome to knot me right now if that'd make you feel better,” he teases. Honestly, he’s not sure what Crowley’s deal is. Like during Dick's Heat. Not once had Crowley made a pass at him then, but he'd acted jealously. Even worse, when he didn't study for the midterms he'd brought other Omegas over. Luckily the other guys in the dorm had been happy to help and Dick had spent his free time in the common room or in Chad and Brad’s room. That didn't stop Crowley from following him around deep-purring on the campus grounds, or slip an arm around his waist possessively if he was talking to an Alpha that didn't live in their dorm. 

“Oh please. Spare me the tosh, love. I'm not touching you when you've got Mike all over. I'm just giving you a friendly warning not to get involved with him and his brother. They'll eat you up and spit you out and walk away without a backwards glance. But if you want to hand yourself over to them like a pathetic one-go cumdumpster, don't let me stop you, darling.” 

_Ouch_. That was mean even by Crowley’s sometimes passively aggressive standards.

Dick opens his eyes to meet Crowley's resentful gaze. He smirks. “I bet Mike has a nice, big knot, though,” he jabs back.

Crowley narrows his eyes and gets up. “No. That would be Lucifer. Now, if you excuse me, I have better things to do, places to be. Goodnight,” he says and leaves their room, taking his pissy stink with him.

* * *

There's a knock on the door and Dick goes to open. Outside stands a very contrite-looking Alpha, sober this time. “Yes? Can I help you?” Dick asks and arches a pointed eyebrow, belly doing a nervous flip-flop.

Mike rubs his neck awkwardly. He's chewing gum and the mint nips pleasantly at Dick's senses. “Hi. You're Richard, right? I'm Michael. I've been made aware that I made a complete fool of myself last Friday. I would like to apologize. Under no circumstances is what they told me I did okay. I'm terribly ashamed of myself.”

Dick crosses his arms and leans his shoulder against the doorpost with a faint smirk. “How convenient for you that you don't remember it then. Don't worry. I didn't expect anything less from a Packrunner, dear. But next time, consider buying me dinner first.”

A muscle twitches by Mike's eye, a sting of discontent enters his scent, but apart from that, there's no other sign of him taking offense at the insult. “I was hoping you'd let me explain why I reacted like I did?”

Dick considers closing the door in his face. Or headbutt him. He offers his hand to shake instead. “Dick,” he says with a pleasant smile. 

“Mike,” Michael answers and shakes it.

Dick waits for a beat but Mike doesn’t say anything more. Another beat passes and Dick reluctantly steps aside to let him in. Mike strolls inside like he owns the place and looks around curiously. “Which side is yours?”

“Why? Are you planning to mark it up too? In that case, I’ll lie, just to see my roommate throw a fit when he comes home.”

Mike gives him a gauging look, catching the playful smirk, and relaxes a little. “I won’t. But I’ll admit that I want to. Backbone reaction, if you will. I’d gladly mark your room up for you.”

The gall of this guy. Dick feels himself getting angry while simultaneously struggling not to draw deep breaths of Mike’s amazing scent hanging in the air where he passed Dick. He closes the door. “That circles us back to the dinner issue. But you’ve got a nose. I’m sure you can figure it out by yourself.” Dick keeps his expression playful and his gaze sharp, hiding the chaos inside. Part of him is raging, rebelling, feeling intruded upon, huffing in affront at the continued disrespect. Another part is jubilant to have Mike come to him. Be here. Offering a chance of getting to be physical.

Mike looks about to protest. After all, how do you smell what can’t be smelled? But then he stops himself, scents the air thoughtfully, and moves to Dick’s side of the room.

“Good boy. See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Even if the whole room smells of Crowley, Crowley’s side smells much more intensely of him. 

Mike huffs. “Can I sit?” he asks and gestures at Dick’s chair.

“I presume we’re about to find out,” Dick answers. He’s provoking the Alpha. But if the guy can’t take it he shouldn’t have fucking marked Dick like he did earlier this weekend.

Another twitch by the eye and a sting of annoyance in his scent, but Mike doesn’t rise to the bait outwardly. He sits down and looks around again. “So… what are you studying?” he says in an awkward attempt at small talk.

“Oh. Forgive my confusion. I must have misunderstood. I was under the assumption that you wanted to explain to me why you claimed me like Mr. Sloane overtook Maybella at the beginning of Wildflower last time we met. Silly me,” Dick answers, hiding his irritation behind a disarming smile and a flirty bend of his neck. Wildflower is one of the most popular plays of the century, and Dick’s seen it performed many times in the slums. Supposedly, in the movie versions, Maybella has the red eyes associated with the ideal Alpha, like she does in the script, but it’s not always possible to recreate for the street performers in the slums.

Michael manages to look shamefaced and amused at the same time. “Yikes. It was that bad? Okay, here’s the thing. My dad died giving birth to my youngest kit brother. It was hard on all of us, especially father. He sort of just ceased for a while. He walked and talked and took care of us but it was like he too had crossed over along with dad. And then, he lost his scent.” Michael runs his hand through his hair. “I remember how terrified it made my uncle and how intensely we had to shower father with physical contact and scent markings. I remember my uncle forcing father to siphon him for hours, just lying on the bed hugging him close. We all would huddle together for comfort in mourning and it got us through. But my uncle explained to us that father lost his scent because his body was shutting down and that he was at risk of dying. The fear I felt back then, to lose both my parents… Dad was only scentless for a couple of weeks, but the memory of fear remains. I guess I triggered when we met? Shit, but even now, seeing that you’re not even remotely in the state father was, I still have this itch to mark you and your room up just to make sure you won’t die.”

“I see. So what you’re saying is that you didn’t force yourself on me, you’re merely misunderstood. You are, in fact, a hero, and should be celebrated as such, for so valiantly foregoing polite custom to save an Omega in distress?” Dick asks innocently.

Mike utters a bemused laughter. “No, I―” he stops himself, lips twitching in amusement and gears ticking behind his eyes. He gets up to stand in front of Dick, closer than polite neutrality would dictate. Close enough for seduction and close enough for causing a lot of damage with a surprise swipe with claws. “Yes. Exactly. I didn’t intend to be an asshole. I only wanted to help you,” he agrees with his unfair smile and measuring eyes.

“A rose by any other name, dear.” A dick move is a dick move no matter intent. Dick’s sarcasm seems to have flown him right by, though. “Besides, from what I hear you have no shortage of Omegas ready to sing your praise and celebrate your heroic accomplishments. I’m sure you can survive if a few perish in the fringes,” Dick jokes with a subtle hint of mockery.

Mike lets out a surprised laugh and quickly covers his mouth with a hand, eyes twinkling green. “Wow. You’re something else. I get why Chadster and Brad like you.” Mike teeths his canines, flaring the same blue colour as Peter. He takes a step closer. His confident smile is a weapon by itself. “Say, would you―”

The door behind them opens. “I brought nosh, darling. Hope chips and bangers do it for y―” Crowley cuts off when he notices that they’re not alone, scent souring. 

Mike’s smile seems genuine enough, though. “Hey, Crowley.” He remains standing close to Dick with a posture as if it’s the most natural thing that he’s about to put a moves on Dick right here in Crowley’s room and the idea of rejection hasn’t even crossed his mind even though what he appears to have in mind will leave both Dick and the room thoroughly claimed.

“Mike. Well, this is a surprise.” Crowley’s holding two plates with fries and hotdogs in his hand. Sticking to a new habit of his to bring Dick food unprompted. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

Dick might have conflicting emotions about Mike, but not about Crowley. And Crowley doesn’t deserve to get his mealtime ruined by the self-important dick standing in their room. Especially not when he brings food for the both of them, relieving Dick’s very limited economy. Dick turns and takes a stride up to Crowley to greet him with a quick, affectionate temple rub. He feels Crowley’s jolt of surprise. They’ve been getting more physical with each other since their talk, but this is different. This signifies a closeness they don’t have yet, but shows which Alpha Dick’s allegiance lies with. “Hello, dear. Mike just dropped by to kindly offer to mark my room up for me and to explain that what he did this Friday was for my own good. Such a gallant offer, wouldn’t you say? Seeing that I’m in such dire peril and all, and I’d need him, _specifically_ , since no other Alpha will do. They’d waste their time worrying about my agency, pride, and consent before acting. Or, gods forbid, offer their neck for scenting before they make their effort and I might decline their help in my feeble-minded state of mourning, and perish,” he says pleasantly, every word a jabbed insult towards Mike. He can smell the sharp sting of anger coming from behind, while Crowley’s scent turns happy and content. This time no sarcasm is lost on Mike, at least.

Dick turns around to face Mike. Mike’s face is neutral, despite the anger in his scent. “I do appreciate that you took time out of your day to apologize. Your explanation seems very admirable and in your drunken state, I'm sure your behavior made perfect sense to you. I offer my condolences for the loss that caused you to feel distressed when encountering me, resulting in the violation. I'm certain you are relieved to find my surroundings already suffused with a scent that'll alleviate any presumed health hazards on my behalf. If you're in doubt Crowley's hormones aren't up to the task, I recommend you take a course in basic biology. Otherwise, go ahead and put your stress about my scentlessness out of that handsome head of yours. I assure you, I'm fine. Your apology is accepted this time,” he says calmly and amicably. He goes on, letting his eyes go sharp and his canines pointed. “But, should you at any point in the future, have the backbone reaction to mark me or my quarters up without first proving yourself worthy of such intimate claim, you'll find that my understanding won't go deeper than my claws can penetrate an artery. Should the lesson _still_ not hit home, I will officially challenge your Main for her position. A fight she _will not_ win, and you'll end up having _real_ problems on your hand. But don’t fear. My boys tell me you’re a good guy. I trust their judgement so I’m confident you will not repeat your mistake and overreach again. I’ll put it down to cultural difference, since where I come from, it takes more than a pretty smell to earn the right to mark somebody. And perhaps you’re better off not dealing with Omegas above your station, who require a show of effort to engage. Better instead to stick to Omegas that’ll swoon for your pretty looks, your pedigree, and your ability to chase down other Omegas actively _trying_ to be caught. That way you won’t run the risk of having your gray matter dying from the shock of suddenly have to be used. Now, I’ll ask you to leave and bid you a thank you for your visit. Very thoughtful. Truly.”

Both Alphas’ scents are a jumble. Crowley’s hunching his shoulders, licking his lips repeatedly, looking away at the floor. His smell is a mix of excitement and arousal. His submissive posture is probably an effort to allow Mike to save face despite getting a scolding so he won’t blame Crowley. Mike looks utterly bewildered and his scent is a mix of anger, distress, and an ounce of fear.

“Dick, I'm not―“ Mike begins and reaches out for Dick like he wants to put a hand on his shoulder and give a heartfelt excuse as to why his behaviour up to this point hasn’t been completely disrespectful at all.

Dick puts a hand to his chest and leans away before Mike’s hand can reach him. “ _Do_ behave, Mr. Sloane. I’m not like other Omegas. I’m an _Alpha_ Omega,” he quotes from Wildflower, batting his eyelashes coquettishly with a playful smirk. In the play Sloane gets himself bested by Maybella anytime he acts as if he’s better than her by default. Of course, they are Truemates and end up together in the end. The play has managed to get itself popular with all four factions because it depicts the ideal Primal Omega to the Primals, gender does not define who’s ‘on top’, winning the approval of Progs, and Maybella ‘comes to her senses’ in the end, mating Sloane for life, toning down her feisty exterior in public, which speaks to the Conservatives. The fact that Maybelle is Alpha-coded, underlined by her red eyes, also okays her behaviour to Conservatives. Packrunners like it because they consider Maybella to be a packless Main.

Mike huffs in bewildered amusement, something pleased mixing with the other elements in his scent, and licks his lips a couple of times in a cursory show of submission. “Understood. Again, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to your meal. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. Nice meeting you, Dick,” he says backing towards the door.

“We still on for poker night tomorrow?” Crowley asks Mike just as Mike opens the door.

“What? Yes, of course. Naturally. See you there,” Mike babbles on his way out, barely bothering looking back before closing the door fleeing the scene.

Crowley starts purring the moment Mike’s out. “Well, well. I never expected to see an execution of character quite that gruesome. Not all that impressed by him anymore, love?”

Dick lets go of the reins of his ire. “The _gall_. He comes here to apologize, but what I hear is that my scentlessness triggered _his_ bad memories, and he had to fix me to get rid of _his_ distress. Not a word about making it up to me despite marking me as thoroughly as my mate did anytime we met again after my bond faded. And he straight up, without shame, admitted wanting to mark our room up. As if it doesn’t already smell of another Alpha! Does he expect me to be grateful? How far beneath him does he think I am? Does he think I’ll be flattered and forget all about people who actually matter to me just because he’s a pedigree pal? He’s lucky this isn’t my apartment back home or he wouldn’t have walked out of here without blood loss. _Fuck_. You know what the worst part is?”

Crowley puts down the food on his desk and digs up his cigarettes from his pocket. He’s continuously purring. “What’s the worst part, love?”

“Despite his behaviour, his scent has me soaking my fucking pants, and I can’t decide if I want to have his kits, or gouge his eyes out!”

Crowley sniggers and lights his cig. “Technically, he doesn’t have to be able to see his kits, now does he, darling?” he jokes and winks, then holds out his pack towards Dick with a pleased smirk. “Fag?”

For once, Dick’s _almost_ tempted to say yes…

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeff's problem came about because of a question about sex/gender presentation I got somewhere relating to this series. How they identify is different from how we do it, and would most likely experience other problems than we do when presenting as transgender/transsexual, genderfluid, or in other ways diverge from the norm. What cultural designation they're raised by would also play a big part, as well as what environment they come from - like the difference between rural living and city living. But people are people everywhere and even in a world that's much more open to diversity such as this one people would be prone to doubt and feel insecure about themselves, especially when they see no one else that matches with how they feel themselves. I'm not going to create a major character in this verse with a cross-presentation, but I wanted to open the door to the possibility.


	12. The Inside Source

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's pining for what he can't have and doesn't really want. Crowley and he keep getting closer. And Dick's sordid affair with Sebastian turns out to be very useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May I point out that Mike and Luci have matured a lot and are no longer quite the same people they were when they were in college? Luci, especially, has learned humility since then. Here, he sorta needs to be taken down a peg.
> 
> Beta read by my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown). (And Grammarly.) Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> And it's too long since I spiced things up with a random flare gif. Flaring is hot. We need to look at one now. Completely unrelated to our story, but still. 

### The Troublesome Two

If Dick thought Mike was a problem, he hadn't counted on Lucifer. Their scents are basically the same with a tiny fraction of a difference. It's like a colour, pink for an instance. It looks like the same hue, but when you hold it up to the light one pink shows hints of peach and the other purple. Dick can only tell them apart if they are side by side and even then it's a hit-or-miss. But Lucifer comes with the added curse of being Dick's type, aesthetically. He isn't as refined or beautiful as his older brother, but that just makes him more interesting. They belong to the social elite of people who manage to hit the top both based on materialistic values as well as Primal traits. So apart from supposedly belonging to some top power family, Luci is also an _animal_. How does Dick know this? Well, it just so happens he’s developed a masochistic habit while studying. 

Crowley plunks himself down in the grass beside him. “Thought I might find you here, love,” he says and hands Dick a paper mug with coffee, both of them leaning in for a quick, affectionate temple rub in greeting. A new habit since the Mike incident. “Why not give up on this tosh and go with me or the Tweedle Bros to one of their parties? Maybe you can snag yourself a shag with one of them instead of wagging off here, gutting yourself. Mike’s asked about you.” 

“Not interested. I’m surprised you hang out with them.” Dick’s been surprised to find that Crowley, despite his apparent loathing often went to their parties, and played poker with them on a regular basis. He’d been surprised to find that Mike seemed to actually like Crowley too. 

“Can’t let a little animosity get in the way of long-term goals, darling. One day I’ll be working for either them, or one of their other posh friends,” Crowley answers and sips his own coffee. They’re sitting on the edge of the Omega Run track. A spot on the grass with a view of all the hotspots of interest. Dick avoided the hub-hub by the starting line, visible in the distance, where most people hang out to rile up the would-be runners and watch the flirting and the posturing that went on pre-run. Arousal hung in the air over there, as heavy as by any dance floor. He hated when an Omega in Heat came around and the Alphas who wanted to run for her started showing off, dropping fangs, flaring, deep-purring, and challenging each other in posturing displays like animals. He hated getting rubbed in his face that he could never induce such reaction in an Alpha. It took conscious thought for an Alpha to act that way around him since it’s a scent-induced instinct. He knew by now that it’s another way for nature to make sure no unwilling Omega would ever be mounted, since dissimulotonin hid even the most heinous stink an unwilling Omega could muster. Knowing the science behind it is no comfort. Even Omegas not in Heat can rile up Alphas, but _he can’t_. It also puts Crowley’s persistent deep-purring from day one in a different light. 

From this spot, though, he can see the obstacles that require the most athleticism to get over, as well as the point most Omegas got caught. A surprising amount of Omegas said no or postponed the knotting to a private occasion later. All the Alphas were good sports about it, but some liked to do it then and there―another act of showing off―Lucifer amongst them. If that guy could charge for entrance to watch him, he would. Hell, people would pay. Dick might. 

“Really? You’ve never told me your plans for the future.” 

“I’m planning to be a lawyer.” 

“And you want to work for a company, not a law firm?” 

“A secure position at a place with a renown name, good pay, never having to search for clients. Why shouldn’t I want that? Plus, I prefer to pull strings behind the curtain, not be in the spotlight.” 

“Hmm. I also want to work for such company. Can’t decide with what, though. With people, somehow. I want them to fear me, hold their lives in my hand and decide to crush or reward as I please. They’ll never know because I’ll be giving them a friendly smile either way,” Dick muses, downing half his coffee in one go. 

Crowley sniggers and purrs in contentment. “Sounds like you’re cut out for human resources.” 

“Human resources, huh? Yes. Perhaps.” 

In the distance there’s the commotion signifying a run about to happen and they look in that direction. There are three Alphas currently preparing to run. Dick recognizes two of them. Lucifer and Chad. That Chad and Brad are frequent runners had been another surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t have been. Most of the jocks do the run now and then and they are on the football team. Apparently, military recruiters often made a point of watching a couple of runs when they visited a campus that had them. Brad had been approached by one after a downright brilliant run where he’d chosen to go over all the hardest obstacles while the Omega had chosen to run beside them. (Omegas are recruited as well. The military isn’t hampered by Conservative genderist bias.) Brad had been tempted to say yes, but Chad’s stink of mournful distress (carefully kept from his face) from where he stood nearby had made Brad politely decline. Dick had heard the recruitment officer mutter under his breath about ‘fucking Packrunners’ when he walked away. Dick felt fiercely content about it. Even more so when he’d found the two engineering students standing with their foreheads together in an emotional heart-to-heart. ‘You don’t want me to join the army, bro?’, ‘Bro, you could _die_.’ Dick might be insanely in love with the idea of those two as Alpha Truemates despite not believing in Truemates. 

In the distance Lucifer shrugs out of his leather jacket to flaunt his tanned torso and gestures towards the audience to up their cheers before turning his attention back to the Omega. Dick looks away. 

“I saw you run last night. Must be some record time. Why don’t you join the circus?” Crowley says and gestures towards the starting field. 

“You saw me? What were you doing out and about at 4 AM?” 

“Taking care of sensitive business, darling. Don’t deflect. I’ve thought you’ve been out getting laid, then I find that what you’re really doing is running the course like a champ when nobody can see you. A bloke gets curious. Why not join them? Even Luci would be amped up for that kind of competition.” 

“Yes, well, he wouldn’t be able to catch me, now would he? My skills come from a need to survive in the slums when I was everything that screams prey to a predator. Currently, I don’t need those skills and I can hold myself in a fight, but that’s not a reason to let them go to waste. Physical skills fade without practise. Plus, my main advantage has always been that people don’t see me as a threat until I attack. If I flaunt it like that red-eyed devil over there, I lose my advantage.” 

“It’d land you on his giant knot,” Crowley argues. 

“Yes, well, not all of us are keen to be _one-go cumdumpsters_ for the sake of a scent,” Dick snipes. A cheer declares the run has begun and the Omega has taken off. The Alphas are holding off for a bit to give her a head start. “Besides, they’re Primals and as such, they should be measuring my value through Primal perimeters. You know where I land when you do that? Even without a scent?” 

“Top shelf, no doubt, love,” Crowley answers. 

Dick looks at him sharply for a beat to determine if he’s being sarcastic but gets nothing but sincerity from it. “Exactly. Those two, Lucifer particularly, are so far into their echo chamber that they think people should be grateful for their attention. I can almost not blame Mike for acting like he did to me, having seen how people treat him. _Almost_. But Lucifer? People are going so wild for his red eyes and feral ways it has eradicated every shred of humility. It’s disgusting.” 

“You could be riding that wave too.” 

He knows that. It’s the reason he avoids flaring. He’s sick and tired of being reduced to a flare-colour or get to hear how pretty his kits would look. He removes his notes from his lap, drinks the last of the coffee, then lies down with his head in Crowley’s lap. Crowley starts purring in contentment and moves a hand to scrape his nails through Dick's hair. In the distance, the runners have disappeared behind a bend and can no longer be seen from here. “I'd rather be riding you,” Dick mumbles and closes his eyes. 

“I don't have enough for somebody like you to ride,” Crowley answers quietly. 

Dick opens his eyes and frowns. “Is this about your knot size? Is that why you won't knot me? I've always wondered because you only ever proposition me when I'm guaranteed to say no, and when I ask for it you decline.” 

It's a blatant callout. Crowley looks down at him with an unreadable expression. His scent gives nothing away except contentment. “It's not. It's complicated. Don't worry your pretty little head about it.” He sips his coffee and keeps petting. 

“Is it because I'm a guy? I've never seen you with a male Omega,” Dick persists. 

Crowley sniggers. “Darling, there are over 3000 students that go here, but there are only 7 male Omegas on campus grounds. Two of them are teachers. One of them is you, another is monogamously mated. That doesn't leave me many guys to play with.” 

Evasion. No answer to why Crowley's both rejecting and courting Dick is forthcoming. Some nearby spectators start cheering when the Omega emerges. She's running fast but she's wearing a shirt with the star of the One God on so Dick knows she'll be running beside the obstacles and hurdles of the track not to outshine the competing Alphas. There's also a 70% chance she'll deny them or ask for a private knotting when she's caught, and a 0% chance she'll fight the Alpha before she'll give up. This is her college experiment, her walk on the wild side before she goes out to search for a suitably respectable Truemate in the real world. A Truemate that will just happen to be of her social standing, won't oppose her college dalliances, work within a field that she approves of, and have no opposing interests to her. 

Her Truemate won't be some shithead trying to rob her of a chicken when she's walking home, nor slam her against a wall and mark her up without so much as a hello. 

Lucifer and Chad emerge, both heading for the obstacles at breakneck speed. Dick watches them grab the rope to climb up to the handlebar walkway. Muscles flexing under tanned sweaty skin. 

Dick and Lucifer are both circus freaks to these people. The odd ideal that movies recreated with CGI but otherwise is considered extinct or even nothing more than a myth, like red eyes have never existed in humans, to begin with. Dick wonders if Lucifer really doesn't care that a lot of these people will be with him just to be able to say that they've fucked or known a red-eyed guy, bragging to friends years down the road? If he's truly okay with being reduced to an object? Dick isn't. But he's no better than the rest. He's crazy for those red eyes, long fangs, and arrogant Primal swagger. He hates it and blames Lucifer for the unwanted attraction. Hates him. 

“Fag?” Crowley asks. 

“Yes, please.” Dick can't say where the impulse to say yes comes from. Self-loathing, perhaps? Nevertheless, he sits up and takes the cigarette that Crowley lights for him with a smug smirk. He looks at the glowing cherry for a beat before experimentally taking a drag. He coughs twice and takes a new drag on the cigarette. It tastes like it smells but his limbs start feeling relaxed and so does his mind, like life is pretty damn okay despite everything. “This isn't half bad.” 

Crowley lights a cigarette of his own. “It's addicting, but nothing reduces stress quite like it. Just don't siphon it.” 

“Why not?” Dick asks and takes another drag, really starting to enjoy the sensation. 

“Because I said so.” 

Dick scowls at him. He's never appreciated being bossed around. 

He siphons it. 

. 

. 

. 

He opens his eyes to blink up in confusion at the clouds spinning above him. He's on his back, feeling like he's just got off a roller coaster that derailed at its highest point. He can hear somebody snigger nearby. Somebody… holding his hand? He sits up. 

Tries to sit up. 

The world tilts precariously in every direction at once like his brain can't figure out up and down or motion even if his eyes can. He tips to the side like a felled tree. 

His head is caught before he hits it and he's manhandled to lie on his back again, this time with his head in a lap while Crowley's sniggering face spins above him. His belly bursts with joy. “Crowley!” He exclaims happily. 

“That's right, love. Now we know that whatever job you get in the future, it can't entail big red buttons that mustn't be pushed for top secret reasons.” 

Dick grins up at him. “You could have warned me what would happen,” he points out. Crowley's face is slowing down its spin. 

“What would be the fun in that?” Crowley smirks. “How are you feeling? Can you move your arms? Feeling a need to honk?” 

“No. No nausea. Should I be nauseous? Feeling pretty damn fantastic.” Dick lifts his hands to see if he can―he can―and pets Crowley’s face. “Sometimes I can’t stand you, but I do think I love you, if I might say so,” he muses. 

Crowley’s lips twitch in amusement. One of his hands comes into view holding a cigarette and he takes a drag on it. His scent goes from content to happy. “Careful there, love. Better not talk while the filter is off. And to answer your question, it’s 50/50 if you get nauseous. I was sick like a dog when I was tricked into doing it. Not as spawny as you, though. The arseholes had a good laugh at me and left me when I passed out. Could have ended pretty badly if Balt hadn’t found me.” 

Dick gasps in horror while Crowley struggles not to laugh at him. “ _Oh no_! Who’s Balt? When was this?” 

“When I was institutionalized for…” Crowley makes a ‘ _you know_ ’ gesture with his hand. “There was this garden we were allowed to be in. Some wankers from a nearby school saw me through the fence and convinced me to follow them to a nearby train yard where they coaxed me to try a fag and to siphon it. Balthazar was my caretaker. A literal guardian angel. Often came to work coked up or tipsy, told the bawdiest stories, and gave all of his love and devotion. When he found me I was flat on my back with my mouth full of puke. A minute later and it might have been game over.” There’s a thread of mourning mixing in Crowley’s happy scent when he talks about Balt. 

“Was he angry with you for smoking?” 

“No, he wasn’t. Unless you siphon, the stress-reducing qualities of fags help stave off depression.” 

Dick blinks and tries to make sense of the happy mourning and the words. “You miss him?” 

Crowley looks down at him silently for a while, contemplating while taking two more drags of smoke. “We keep in touch. He sends me scented scarves and letters. I’ve been trying to convince him to come here, but he’s mated with kits. He won’t come until the youngest is presented. As far as I know, I might have to wait for decades.” 

It dawns on Dick then, and he gasps again - in wonder this time. “You’re in love with him!” 

Crowley sniggers. “Darling, you’re not the only one with a penchant for falling for the wrong guy.” 

“ _Oh no_. That’s so sad.” Dick feels like crying on Crowley’s behalf and the mourning in Crowley’s scent is replaced by content happiness again while he laughs at Dick’s pitiful expression. “At least you haven’t had one of your mates murder the other two and had to rely on your bond to him to keep you from dying from the ensuing mourning,” Dick tells him with a smile. Satisfied that Crowley isn’t suffering _that_ bad. “I still dream of seeing Peter stand over Toivo’s body. So much blood everywhere…” he continues, voice drifting. “It’s so funny, because Dr. Montgomery tells me that as long as I don’t experience any major traumas I can live a normal, healthy life. He thinks that a trauma might undo me. Goes to show what he knows.” Dick chuckles. 

Crowley, on the other hand, looks serious. “Peter wasn’t your only mate? You’re a Packrunner?” 

Dick scowls. “I’m not fucking Packrunning trash,” he snipes. His face smooths out. “But I did run with a pack for a couple of months. Big mistake. Won’t ever happen again. Packrunners are trouble even when they’re good guys.” A cheer from somewhere out of sight distracts Dick. He tries to sit up again, but once more the world tilts in every direction, making him flop right back in Crowley’s lap. At least his head isn’t spinning when he’s lying still now. “They’ve finished the run?” 

Crowley snorts in amusement. “Darling, you’ve been out like a light for more than an hour. And you’ll be unable to move for another one. Then you’ll be lightheaded for a couple of hours. After that, you’ll be fine. Just don’t siphon cigarettes ever again.” 

“Got it. Never again,” Dick promises and reaches up to pet Crowley’s stubbled cheek. Crowley grabs his hand, kisses his palm, them cups his own hand over Dick’s on his cheek. Dick makes a delighted trill, then purrs his happy contentment. Crowley adds his own purr to his, synchronizing them. 

Somebody comes jogging and calls out. “Hey, Crowley! Why don’t you make a run? All the Omegas not on suppressants from the House have their Heats right now so there’s enough to go around. I’m sure even you can find someone that’ll have you.” The voice changes from friendly to mocking. “Wait. Did I say run? I meant waddle. Why don’t you have a waddle around the course with your tiny little legs?” 

The scent gives away who’s disturbing their little moment of affection. Dick turns his head to look anyway. Lucifer’s standing close by, hair a disarray, naked chest heaving from exertion glistening with sweat. Fangs so long he needs to keep his superior smirk open-mouthed or adjust his lower jaw to fit, red eyes glistening like blood-rubies. He’s so hot he might single-handedly be responsible for the glaciers melting. Dick hates him. 

“No you go ahead and show off that nice physique of yours,” Crowley responds. “After all, what you don’t have in your brain you’ve got to have in your body.” 

Lucifer snorts with a sneered smirk. “Forget it. I see you’ve already found an Omega that’s taken pity on you. Hold onto that one. He’s a keeper.” He leans closer and sniffs the air pointedly. 

“ _Oops_. Sorry about that. Seems I was wrong,” he says jokingly and makes a ‘yikes’ expression. 

It’s the single-handedly cruellest joke anyone’s ever done at the expense of Dick’s scentlessness. 

Crowley’s scent turns sharp from anger. He teeths all of his teeth, elongates his fangs and growls a deep, low threat that promises lethal violence. Dick opens his mouth to retort, starting to sit up, but Crowley covers his mouth with a hand and pulls him down, pinning him in place in his lap. 

Lucifer laughs and jogs off with a wink. 

Dick speaks the moment Crowley removes his hand. “Why did you stop me from giving him an earful?” 

“Because, darling, you’re high enough to say anything, and you can’t fight him in this state. With how sharp your tongue is it would have escalated into an argy-bargy. Lucifer isn’t all mouth no trousers. That nob can hold his own. I don’t want that. That remark was meant for me and I can take the mickey.” 

“What’s up with you two anyway?” Dick’s not happy about letting it go, but he can’t deny how vulnerable he is in this state. 

The anger in Crowley’s scent is receding, contentment coming back and teeth taking their normal shape. “He’s a sore loser and I keep besting him.” 

“At what?” 

Crowley smirks smugly. “Everything that requires a brain, love.” 

* * *

After that Dick avoids the Omega Run except for the odd nightly excursion to prove to himself that he indeed would be able to beat all of them. He can’t justify pining for someone that would act so cruel towards him. It turns out his efforts to avoid Lucifer are moot. 

“Your meal has already been paid for, Sir.” 

Dick blinks in confusion at the cafeteria lunch-lady holding his wallet in hand, a fiver halfway pulled out. “By whom?” 

She smiles at him and points at a table. Dick turns around and spots Lucifer by a table for two. When they make eye contact Lucifer pushes out the chair opposite himself with a foot. 

Dick turns back to the lunch-lady and smiles politely. “Thank you, dear,” he tells her and puts his wallet away. He takes his tray and pointedly walks to an empty four-seat table on the other side of the cafeteria from where Lucifer’s sitting and starts to eat. It doesn’t take long before Lucifer plops himself down opposite him. Dick ignores him but takes note of the discontent in the Alpha’s scent. 

“I apologise. I went way out of line. I meant to take the piss out of Crowley and missed the mark completely,” Lucifer says. 

Dick finally looks up and gives him a pleasant smile. “Dear me. It only took you three weeks to figure that out? Well done.” 

“No, I realised it the same day. I feel really fucking bad for what I said. It’s been eating at me. But I couldn’t track you down. I don’t know your name and you don’t leave a scent trail for me to follow or I would have come to you sooner.” Lucifer looks remorseful enough, but… 

“You could have just, oh I don’t know, perhaps asked Crowley? You share every class with him, after all.” 

Lucifer leans back and looks away with a dissatisfied twist to his lips, wordlessly saying that he knew he could have done that but he didn’t want to as Crowley no doubt would have wanted to know why and that would mean he’d had to apologize to Crowley too. 

“No? How about, there are seven male Omegas on campus, two of which are teachers. It wouldn’t be that hard to ask around, or go down to the expedition and flash those ruby reds of yours and I’m sure Camilla would have pointed you in the right direction. _Or_ , and this is a crazy idea, but maybe, just maybe, since there’s exactly _one_ scentless individual in the whole school, you could have asked _anyone_. Or better yet, gone to the medical wing and had a chat with the staff. But that would have been way too easy, wouldn’t it? No, you just had to use your senses, rather than your brain.” 

Lucifer hangs his head in shame and stare at his lap, balancing his chair on its hind legs. “You’re right. I was ashamed. Didn’t really want anyone to find out what a fuckhead I’d been, that’s why I didn’t ask anyone. What happened to you anyway?” He looks up at Dick with sad ice-blue puppy eyes brimming with emotion and Dick hates him so much because of how it makes his heart skip-skip with excited nerves. 

“Me? Nothing. I was born like this. The most traumatic thing that happened to me is my mating bond fading when I left my ex-mate in the dust to go to college, which, frankly, wasn’t very traumatic at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had enough of you. I’ve already heard three comments this week about how you and I would have the most amazing babies, and it feels like more interaction than I can stoma―” 

“Why would they say that?” Lucifer asks in surprise. 

Dick frowns in annoyance. “They probably assume I’ve got _abysmal_ taste in Alphas. Now, will you _please_ remove that foul stench of yours? You’re ruining my appeti―” 

“Maybella!” Mike’s cheery greeting startles them both. Mike sets down his tray beside Dick with a friendly smile. He smells nervous, though. “Nice seeing you here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the cafeteria before.” 

Dick smiles and bends his neck coquettishly, bats his eyelashes and gives Mike a playful shove on the arm. “Why, Mr. Sloane, I believe it’s because you have the worst timing,” he says, quoting another line from the play. Mike doesn’t know how well it corresponds to the truth right now. In reality, of course, Dick rarely eats here. He tries to keep his expenses down, but sometimes he has to make exceptions. 

Mike laughs and grins at him, (It’s not that funny.) moving his fruit salad and apple pie to Dick’s tray without a word. 

“You two _know each other_?” Lucifer exclaims in wide-eyed surprise. 

“We’ve met before. This is Dick Roman. He’s practically the Main in Brad and Chadster’s wing. Crowley’s roommate? Brad and Chadster talk about him all the time. You know. The ‘in-house O-bro’,” Mike chirpingly explains, making air quotes before digging into his food. Lucifer pales and swallows dryly, looking from Mike to Dick, as it sinks in that he’s fucked up more than he thought. Mike doesn’t take note of Luci’s distress (it barely translates to his scent) and instead turns to Dick with twinkling eyes, covering his mouth with a hand when he talks with food in his mouth. “Chad and Brad are crazy about you, you know that right?” 

“Chad and Brad are crazy about _each other_. I have never seen a pair more made for each other than those two.” 

Mike blinks at him, then shares a startled look with Lucifer. Both raise their eyebrows and pull their lips down in an agreeing facial shrug. “Can’t argue with that. Still. You should come to one of our parties with them. They’d appreciate it. Hey, Luci, how did the test go? You got your results back today, didn’t you?” 

Dick cuts a piece of some vegetable he doesn’t recognise and puts it in his mouth. He doesn’t like it, so he wordlessly transfers the rest of the vegetables to Mike’s plate. Mike spears a piece and pops it into his mouth without missing a beat. 

“I got 99%,” Lucifer answers with his lip hooked into a smug smirk. 

“Would that be the test Crowley got a 100% on?” Dick asks innocently just to wipe that smirk off Lucifer’s face. 

Lucifer’s expression turns sullen and Mike sniggers at his brother. “Yup, that would be it,” Mike says. “I’ll have to wait until tomorrow before I get my latest test results back. I reckon it won’t be as good as usual. The test was about geometry and it bores me to tears. Otherwise, math is my favourite subject. Speaking of math, why don’t you join us for Poker tonight?” he babbles and looks hopefully at Dick. 

“No thanks, dear. I prefer to rob people from behind in dark alleys. That way nobody gets hurt. Well. _I_ don’t get hurt and I don’t run the risk of losing anything,” Dick jokes. (It’s not a joke, even if he never did like to resort to that sort of solutions.) 

Lucifer snorts in amusement and Mike laughs and grins at him again. It’s really not that funny, but it makes Dick’s belly make happy summersaults that Mike laughs and gives him that unfairly charming smile. Mike’s still somewhat nervous but prattles on. Lucifer is mostly quiet, watching the interaction between his brother and Dick but is occasionally worked into participating in the conversation. By the time Dick’s finished with his hot meal and moved on to the apple pie Mike’s casually dropped several ‘you should stop by some time’ when telling anecdotes from parties where Crowley, Chad, and Brad had been present, to make them more relatable to Dick. 

“...and Brad was dancing with this girl―” 

Dick interrupts whatever Mike was about to say. “Dancing? You’ve got a dance floor? From what I’ve heard your parties are mostly about getting drunk and getting laid. But you dance too?” 

“Of course. You like to dance? Maybe you can save a dance for me if you stop by,” Mike suggests and makes one of those one-eyed flare winks. 

This is how he gets sucked in and he knows it. Dick loathes Lucifer for making that cruel joke about his implied death. Sure, he apologized, but it was half-assed at best. But Mike’s really trying to smooth over his previous mistakes. Dick’s convinced it’s why he’s nervous. He’s all but begging Dick to accept his extended peace laurel. While Dick’s charmed enough to have forgiven him, letting himself be sucked into their world while being head over heels for their scent, can only mean grave trouble for his emotional life. “I’ll think about it. If you excuse me, gentlemen, my next lesson starts soon and I have to take my leave.” 

He flees with as much dignity as he can muster, caught between skipping on pink fluffy clouds and wanting to roll into a ball and cry from self-loathing. Biologic compulsion is a curse. 

* * *

“So what have you got for me today?” 

Sebastian takes a case with vials out of his bag. “These three are all Omegas that don’t go to school here. This is my dad, and here’s another Alpha. He’s a real jerk but he smells good and he was in Rut when I collected the sample.” Dick wonders what the man must be like for Sebastian to consider him a jerk. 

“Good enough.” Dick takes the case and puts it in his own bag then hands over the empty, used vials. They’ve been doing this for a while now. Dick comes for his weekly checkup with Montgomery and Sebastian shows up when Dick’s about to leave only to whisk him away to a room where they can be undisturbed for at least an hour. Neither of them knows exactly for how long the content of a vial will keep fresh enough to have effect, but by _gods_ it really has effect. Dick siphons about one vial a day, not necessarily everything from the same vial. He pours about half of its content on his tongue early morning when he goes to the toilet and siphons it, hiding what he’s doing from everyone. Then later in the afternoon, he’ll use another half. He knows it confuses his dorm-mates because they can definitely _smell_ it on him, but if he’s asked he just smirks and doesn’t answer. It’s driving Crowley mad. He can practically control Crowley’s mood depending on who he chooses to siphon. Any Omega will make Crowley’s mood better, Alphas will make Crowley be a passive-aggressive bitch. Tonight or tomorrow night Crowley will, without fail, bring home an Omega to their room. He always does when Dick comes home smelling of Sebastian. They’ve never met, but Crowley _loathes_ Sebastian. Alec, on the other hand, will be more talkative and friendly when he smells of Sebastian, Chad more standoffish and Brad more enthusiastically trying to get him to go out partying with them. There is a difference, though, between these vials and getting it straight from the source. Sebastian’s scent lingers longer and won’t let itself be traded as easily. 

Not only do people react differently depending on whose scent he’s got on him, he gets a whole range of positive effects. Decreased stress, easier to concentrate and keep focus for longer periods, increased social drive, a better mood in general. It’s easy to measure when the siphoning isn’t attached to a person and the complicated relationship you have with them. The first week Dick had gotten unknown strangers’ samples, he’d had to go straight to the medical wing to find Sebastian to complain - telling him their deal was about _healthy_ individuals. Sebastian had been offended, claiming only to have given him healthy samples. After a short argument, the bullheaded Alpha had agreed to try the faulty sample and been shocked to find that the seemingly perfectly healthy Omega who’d been in for a regular checkup had the earliest stage of developing cancer, before it could be smelled by regular means. Naturally, Sebastian had taken credit for discovering it. Dick doesn’t give a shit. Nor does he mind that Sebastian gives him samples from friends and family in the mix since then. 

One might find it strange that siphoning isn’t used as a standardized method of medical examination, but Dick understands why. It’s a huge violation of privacy as well as an act that is normally associated with intimacy and bonding. You don’t want even your doctor to know _everything_ about you. And the things you can tell about someone by siphoning in this impersonal way? Dick’s run into a guy he’d siphoned (Not while wearing his scent, thankfully). He knew the guy’s general stress level, that he didn’t sleep enough, ate too much fatty food and drank too much alcohol, that he was in love and that he was in some pain. Outwardly, his scent was simply ‘healthy and happy’. 

He isn’t worried about developing bonds with anyone by mistake. Not even with Sebastian. Being Montgomery’s guinea pig in lessons about scentlessness had meant that he too had gotten lessons in biology and learned that scent bonds are dependant on emotions. Even when you’re madly in love it can take a while to form a mating bond. And in his case, a bond will fade so quickly he can shrug it off with an ‘oops’. Only when you find a so-called ‘Truemate’ can a bond spontaneously form on the first try as Dick experienced with Peter. Thus, a so-called Truemate is nothing more but a perfect match physically. Though, apparently pack bonds could be very easily formed by siphoning a Main or Patriarch, which Dick keeps in mind should he ever need to use this fact to his advantage. 

All in all, even though he and Sebastian have regular sex now, the chances of them forming a scent bond is next to none, because Dick resents the guy. He thinks he’s a vile, selfish, off-putting creature. So as long as feelings dictate bonding, there’s no risk of them ending up mated no matter how much he siphons. 

The sex, though… 

After the trade Sebastian locks the door to the examination room he’s booked and pushes Dick against the wall with a hungry growl, then falls to his knees and paws at Dick’s rapidly awakening erection. Sebastian gets off from feeling superior, outsmarting people, and being in power. That could have made him an arrogant and selfish lover, but doesn’t. Instead, he enjoys making Dick fall apart until Dick’s a helpless, drooling mess ready to do basically anything for his knot. Sebastian takes pride in accomplishment, and has no qualms about sucking Dick off, letting himself choke on it and swallow the load. The things that do it for Sebastian is that his mate has forbidden him this, and that they’re doing something that breaks the rules - probably even the law, giving Dick samples from people coming in for medical checkups. If he knew how much Dick resents him he’d probably get off on that too. Their illicit affair is the highest proof of Jeff’s claim that mind and body were two disconnected entities with separate interests. Dick loves the sex. It leaves him feeling degraded because of how he feels for Sebastian as a person, not because Sebastian degrades him. No, Sebastian sees them as co-conspirators in this and Dick hopes he never finds out how Dick feels about himself after enjoying something so fiercely with someone he loathes, or he’d feel even worse about himself afterwards. 

About 40 minutes later Dick’s weak-kneed, siphon-high, and down in post-coital bliss. He’s laid out naked with his belly over the desk and Sebastian knotted half-lying on top of him. “Dear me, you really like cheating on your mate,” he mumbles contentedly. 

Sebastian kisses his neck affectionately and chuckles. “It's her own damned fault for not being able to compromise. But yes. It adds a layer of thrill. The only thing that would make it better is if you too had a mate.” 

“Technically, I do.” 

“What?” 

“I was mated when I got here. My bond has long since faded but he'd still have it.” 

Sebastian trills in delight. “Really? Is he jealous?” 

“Enough to murder the competition.” It's not strictly true. But not strictly a lie either. Even in his blissed-out state thinking of Peter and the Europeans makes him ache hollowly deep inside. 

“You think he’d kill me if he knew?” 

“Yes,” Dick purrs. His lips quirk upward at the thought. Yes, Peter wouldn’t hesitate to do that and Dick wouldn’t be displeased with him then. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Sebastian chokes out and spasms above him, getting hit by a second wave of orgasm. It wouldn’t surprise Dick if Sebastian too thought Dick got off on the thought. 

Sebastian slumps over him, chortling in exhilaration. He frames Dick tighter within his arms and rubs his temple gland on Dick’s cheek with a wide smile like Dick’s one of his greatest treasures. “So… I wasn’t gonna bother mentioning this since it no longer concerns you, but you wouldn’t happen to be attached to your roommate, would you? MacLeod?” 

“He’s quite useful to me. How so?” Dick answers drowsily. He’s figured out that as long as he appears to view the world the same way as Sebastian, preferably pretending to be impressed once in a while, the guy will talk. As much as Dick often wants to ram his fist into the fucker’s handsome face because of _how_ he talks, the words are often both reasonable and full of useful facts. 

“Chances are you’re getting a new roommate soon enough.” 

“They’ve decided to correct their mistake and move me down to the Omega wing?” 

Sebastian huffs in amusement and kisses his jaw. “Don’t be ridiculous. Doctor Montgomery would never stand for that. If he could have his way he’d have every Alpha in your wing knotting you on a rolling schedule to make sure your vitals remain steady. Heh. I’m sure he’d want to be part of that schedule, the old perv. For science, of course,” he jokes. “It’s disgusting, if you ask me. He’s very knowledgeable and I respect the guy, but he puts on this air of being unbiased, yet holds very firm to the idea of Omegas needing Alphas to look after them, which is bullshit. Whether or not God once dictated those rules is a moot point. Faith takes over where science stops, and we’ve made huge jumps in science since the scripture was written so it’s idiotic not to adapt our faith to new facts.” This is precisely what Dick means. Sebastian delivers his tirade with superiority and contempt, but if you listen to the points he’s making Dick can agree often as not. But he sure likes the sound of his own voice and will happily go on talking as long as you’re listening. Like now. “Nobody who’ve met my mom or my mate would be foolish enough to think Omegas are weaker or softer. Just look at you. The Alphas with your condition went belly up. Not you, though. And that’s even despite losing a mating bond apparently. And if you think about it, there’s a reason Primal courting rituals are made to prove that the Alphas can measure up to the Omegas, not the other way around. Take the Omega runs for an instance. Have you done one? No, of course, you haven’t. Who’d chase you when they can’t smell you, right? Heh. But I bet not even I would be able to catch you. I bet even those two Packrunning bastards would be unable to take _you_ down.” 

Dick feels like grinding his teeth in frustration when Sebastian finishes his monologue and is hit by a wave of his strange brand of affection, nuzzles him and licks lovingly at the secretion by his ear gland. 

“Oh dear. I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered,” he coos with a little smile. He feels both, as well as hurt. It hurts to get it rubbed in that nobody would want to chase him. Sebastian’s flattery had been surprising the first time. But Dick’s figured out that it goes with his inflated view of himself. He’s better than everyone else, therefore anything he ‘owns’ is better, Dick included. “But what’s that got to do with my roommate?” 

“What? Oh. Right. A while back there were assault charges brought up against you by some preppy bitch. She came in here to document her damages that you allegedly had caused and an investigation was launched. But her roommate had been making a selfie video for PicMates.com together with some friends when she came home and she got caught on that video they posted. She looked distressed and all but didn’t have the scratch marks in her face she claimed you’d given her, that we documented. Plus, the bitch claimed you’d scratched at her face with _claws_ , and the scratches in her face were made with nails. Pfft. What does she think? That we can’t tell the difference between claw-gashes and ordinary scratch marks? Yeah, right. Anyway, the charges were dropped and the college threatened to expel her for false accusations of another student. They take stuff like that seriously.” 

Dick’s heart is hammering wildly in fright. This could have ruined his plans for the future completely. “You’ve known this for how long?” 

“Oh, I was around when she came in so Dr. Montgomery asked me to help with the examination,” Sebastian tells him offhandedly. “I’m in the volunteer on-call program.” 

“And you never thought to _tell me_?” 

“What for? The allegations were retracted and there’s the whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing.” 

Dick feels like throwing up. He’s breathing roughly and staring at nothing, feeling hot and cold all at once. 

“Hey, hey… _Sssh_ , calm down, kitling. You were never in any danger. If you were, I would have told you. Hey, sweetheart, come here…” Sebastian coos soothingly, demeanour going softer than Dick’s ever seen him. He gets a hand under Dick to tip his torso sideways, then tilts Dick’s face upward and kisses him. 

The kiss is a jolt to the system - not only lips to lips, but with tongue. Unless you’re a Prog this is one of the most intimate things you can do and Dick isn’t prepared for it. Nor for how sweetly Sebastian kisses. It’s enough to jar him out of the building panic. “Okay. But why would I be getting a new roommate if everything’s been cleared?” he asks when he’s calmed down, hating that he’s comforted by the brief intimacy with the asshole on top of him. 

“Because she confessed to why she’d lied. Her dad had promised her to pay for college as long as she took a chastity vow during her school years, and she was afraid her dad would blame her somehow if he found out she’d been knotted, even though she’d been forced. Like _anyone_ would ever blame her for being victim to such a heinous crime. I’m telling you, this bitch is dumb.” 

“Forced?” 

“Yes. What she said seems to check out. She’d been brought to MacLeod’s room to get some notes for their shared class. There he’d attacked her, wrestled her down and knotted her. She’d been so afraid that she peed herself, poor thing. MacLeod had probably visited the DMV or procured a chemical to kill his sense of smell because her roommate and friends could all corroborate that she stank of sex and repulsion and everyone knows you can’t keep a knot when an Omega skunks. Hell, I could smell those two things on her too while examining her. Those are not scents you ever smell together and I’ll admit I didn’t make the connection, I was just confused by it. But it adds up. Plus, somebody had seen and smelled a pissy mattress on the balcony of your wing. So I’m sorry you got mixed up in it all but your boy is going down for his crime. He’ll most likely be looking at 20 to life in prison, and―” 

* * *

Mike has started to pop up in their dorm occasionally. He comes to ‘pick up the guys’ like he’d done that first time they met. Dick thinks it’s a hassle but Mike’s never less than polite and respectful these days. Dick still stubbornly declines to party. He’s here to study. The school year is nearly over and soon he’ll find out if his scholarship is going to be renewed. So Mike’s heavenly scent is an annoying distraction he doesn’t need. 

Tonight when he comes striding into the common room like a harbinger of doom and sees Mike sitting by a table with Chad, Brad, Crowley, and a couple of others, he doesn’t give a shit, though. He’s too enraged. “Gather everyone who’s in their rooms and cancel any plans for tonight. We’re having a wing meeting,” he announces. 

“Something happened?” Alec asks. 

“Yes. Now go get those who are missing. I’ll brief you when we’re all here.” 

He stands straight-backed and calm with his hands behind his back while he waits for the guys to assemble. Inside he’s roaring with fury, but throwing a fit will get him nowhere so he tempers it into a chilly smoulder that can be seen in his eyes. Not until everyone’s seated, watching him, does he speak. 

“Angelina Johnson. Daughter of Anton Johnson, owner of Johnson Pharmaceutical. You all know about her since earlier this year I threw her out and banned her from the wing. Not all of you were present during this event, so I will recount what happened. Crowley and she came here at nine PM. They were giggling and exchanging kisses. They proceeded to make out on Crowley’s bed, losing clothes and getting more heated. I went to bed soon after they’d arrived. For the next two hours, they proceeded to have sex. Crowley did not knot Angelina for approximately two hours. Instead, he focused on giving her pleasure.” 

“Yeah, we heard. Man, she was a screamer,” one of the guys chip in, causing spread sniggers around the room. 

“Indeed, she was,” Dick agrees. “Do you remember _what_ she screamed?” 

“ _Yes, yes, yes, oh my gooood!_ ” Someone else mimics, causing more sniggers. 

“Almost made me envy her, despite Crowley being an Alpha,” George remarks with a grin and throws a look Crowley’s way. 

Crowley smirks at him briefly, but keeps his attention directed at Dick. He’s nervous. Dick can smell traces of fear and distress coming from him. Everyone in the room is in some state of distress since they still don’t know what the point of all this is. Mike’s the only one not smelling of any distress, but he’s listening intently and following along with keen interest. He’s an outsider in the wing, by all means, but Dick sees no reason to throw him out. Let him see who they’re messing with. 

“I’m glad you all remember that,” Dick goes on. “After two hours of keeping me awake like that, Crowley wanted to knot her and asked her to ride…” He goes on to give a detailed description as accurately as he can about what followed. Crowley doesn’t look happy about getting the mockery to his knot-size recounted but Dick doesn’t care. After that, he tells them about Angelina’s assault allegations and how she’d faked injuries to get to Dick. By then the room is teeming with outrage. 

“The conflict should have stopped there, but it didn’t. I’ve got insider information that Angelina had been granted to go to college in the exchange for a chastity vow to her father. In an effort to save herself she’s now put forth a story about how she lied about the assault to cover that she had been, I quote, forcefully knotted by Crowley, unquote, and that she was afraid her dad would count that as breaking her vow. And because she smelled both of unwillingness and sex during her medical exam, she’s managed to get people to believe her.” 

“ _WHAT?_ ”  
“That’s insane!”  
“Bro! I’ve―” 

The ensuing shocked outrage has everyone talking over each other. Crowley’s eyes are wide in shock, his hands shaking as he takes up his pack of cigarettes with robotic, slow movements. His scent is filled with terror. 

Dick lets them go on for a bit before he holds up his hands and calls “ _Silence!_ ” 

Jeff instantly puts his hand up as the guys quiet down. Dick gestures permission for him to speak. “Sir. She won't win this. We can all give testimonies that corroborate yours and Crowley's version of events. And if you give your statement in a court of law it'll be thrown out quickly enough.” 

Dick gives him a tight smile. “That's true. But I won't allow this to see the inside of a courtroom. If it does, it'll be everywhere in the news and whatever the verdict turns out to be there'll be a lot of people thinking that there's no smoke without a fire. Crowley's name will be dragged in the mud and there will forever be people believing him guilty of one of the worst crimes. I won’t tolerate that sort of attack on my friends. I will deal with her like we do where I come from - total annihilation. Since her casual disrespect for other people comes from how her family’s money and how her parents raised her to believe she can act however she wants without grave consequences,” Dick pauses to throw Mike a brief, pointed look before he goes on, directing himself to all of them. “A quick stabbing won’t do. I’ll see her family’s money and power torn from them. You will help me, because, Chad…” Dick holds out a hand towards Chad to prompt him to speak. 

Chad’s seething with controlled anger. He’s flaring like many of them are, and has even dropped fangs. “Because bros don’t let bros get fucked over,” he grits out. 

Dick inclines his head with a tight smile. “Precisely. She stepped on the wrong snake, messing with us. Now the Johnsons are about to find out exactly how venomous a bite from it is. I’ve gathered you for two reasons. One, to give you a chance to warn your families if anyone has any investments in Johnson Pharmaceutical, to sell off any stocks before the company crashes. Two, to ask you for help, using your and your families’ connections to make this execution swift. If you can’t, or won’t help, I’ll respect that and make up for the difference.” 

“Pa is currently in negotiations with Johnson. I’ll call him and ask him to withdraw from the deal,” Chad says. 

“I’ll have The Times run a scandal story about Johnson Pharmaceutical, front page. If they can’t find anything real we’ll make something up, then publish an apology on page five a couple of days later. The corrections never go viral anyway,” Alec offers. 

“I’ll call the IRS and tip them off about a major tax evasion scam,” George adds. 

One by one the guys offer suggestions, stirred up and feeling like a team. Dick’s heart is hammering in excitement. He’d hoped, but not counted on the support. But in one way or another, he’s helped all of them. For some, it’s been small things, like helping Alec keep his focus by studying with him and some of the others in the common room. He’d taught George how to cook. Helped Jeff write the personal ad that put him in contact with a small group of people who also cross-presented. (He’s yet to find a mate that fits him, but finding out he’s not alone has done wonders for him. And drilling him in how to court Primal Omegas has landed him with one successful hookup this far.) Nate had needed someone to talk to about this Omega he was in love with and in one way or another, he’d helped them simply because they asked. Here is the payoff. 

“Father’s in politics. He can block Johnson from getting his license to sell drugs renewed, as well as let the friends of our family know that the Johnsons are now personas non grata.” 

Mike’s offer startles Dick. He smiles pleasantly at the Alpha. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Mike, but why would you do that? We hardly know each other.” 

“It’s the least I can do to make up for how badly I behaved myself towards you. Besides, Crowley’s my friend too, you know?” He gives Dick one of those odd and charming flare-winks and pats Crowley on the shoulder. 

Dick thinks that ‘the least’ is not at all the correct term. ‘Above and beyond’ would be more fitting. 

* * *

When they finally come into their room late at night Crowley speaks up for the first time the whole evening. “If you wanted to keep your head down, _that_ was not the way to do it, love.” He lights a cigarette and offers Dick the pack. 

Dick takes one and lets Crowley light it for him, then sits down on his chair, blowing out smoke in a tired sigh. “I know. But it beats the alternative.” 

“Throwing me under the bus?” 

Dick scowls. “No. Going back to Peter to challenge Malicia for the position as the Main of the Hale pack, then use _them_ to tear the Johnsons out of existence.” The cigarette is calming, relaxing muscles. He smokes sometimes now, but he’s never been stupid enough to siphon a cigarette again. 

Crowley sits down in his own chair and puts his feet in Dick’s lap. Dick lifts his own to Crowley’s lap, wanting the physical contact. “You’d do that for me?” 

“As a last resort, yes. You might annoy the shit out of me sometimes, but you’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.” 

For a beat Crowley looks like he’s about to come with some clever remark, but changes his mind last minute and remains quietly smoking his cigarette, watching Dick. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” Dick asks at last. Crowley’s scent is a mixed jumble and Dick honestly can’t tell. Crowley just shrugs dismissively. “Well, I’ll tell you, Crowley, I feel like wrapping myself possessively around you and growl at anyone who dares come too close. Would it be too much to ask to have you share my bed tonight so I can hold you? I keep riling myself up to new anger all the time.” 

Crowley chuckles and nods at his lap. “It’s a done deal, love.” He probably needs it more than Dick does, but just like Crowley once spared his pride by not calling him out for sleeping with Crowley’s shirts pressed to his nose, Dick’s sparing him now. 

* * *

It turns out that when you scrape the patina of Johnson Pharmaceutical you find all kinds of corruption underneath. There’s no need for the NY Times to make up a story. The scandal blows up nationwide, one ugly secret uncovered after another. The company goes out of business, Johnson has to face criminal charges and file for personal bankruptcy. The allegations against Crowley goes away quietly after a couple of statements to the police from Dick and his dorm-mates. Nobody wants to be caught siding with the Johnsons in anything after some high ups have declared them pariah. The boys in their wing are filled with a sense of having accomplished something right and just, bonding even more tightly as a group. Crowley and Dick keep sleeping together unless either of them hooks up, but none of them brings their hookups home in respect for the other. The end of the school year comes with exams and papers due and before Dick knows it, he’s standing there with a paper in his hand granting him a continuous scholarship for three more years, (unless he’d fuck it up somehow) with an approved application to keep rooming with Crowley in the Alpha wing, official medical exception signed by Montgomery preventing any risk of being moved to the Omegas. He’s in the top percentage of all his classes. It’s insane, considering his background. But Crowley has to go home for the summer and all his friends are scattering for the wind. All he needs to do now is get money to get him by another school year and find a place to stay for the summer. 

He does not want to return to the slums… 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down. :D Thank you for your comments! It's such a great motivator. Please, keep telling me what parts you liked, if you disliked something or something confuses you. Your feedback is the best!


	13. The Progressive Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's got to solve the problem of where to live for the summer. And someone he helped during the school year, might come through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reference to James Bond, Goldeneye, in this story is sorta funny to me. It kinda goes without saying that while the title is the same, the plot is probably way different and the golden eye in the title most likely points to a flare. :)
> 
> This chapter is super long because I wanted to keep what happens this summer in one chapter. We both get to know more about Progs and some key points for the story happen, that change Dick forever, as well as change another aspect that will be revealed in the next chapter.
> 
> A huge thank you to my awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown) who caught some plot-stuff that didn't fit with the narrative.

### Summer of Love

Luck and coincidence land Dick with a job in a tourist information center near the park on his first day of job hunting. He’s randomly walking into stores and offices to ask for a job. Now he has a golden ticket he didn’t have before - a paper that declares that he’s got an education. His college papers prove that he can both read and write and has the basic knowledge that others don’t. He gets booked for an interview at an office one week later, and is asked to return tomorrow to speak to the manager in a store, but most places don’t have open positions or the summer jobs are already taken. It’s not his papers from college that wins him a job right away, though. He enters the tourist center and asks to speak with somebody about a job. The woman behind the desk tells him to wait for the manager. While he stands around waiting people come in to ask questions or look at the maps and stuff on the walls. To pass time, he strikes up a conversation with the people in line. It’s hearing Finnish spoken that triggers it. A couple is discussing whether to go visit the pyre or see the park. He only gets part of the conversation but feels compelled to warn them to take the ferry to the pyre, not go through the slums, and to be very aware of pickpockets while in that general area. His Finnish might be very rudimentary and haphazard, but he makes himself understood. Another man is frowning over a German-English phrasebook, so Dick asks him if he needs help. Within the 30 minutes he waits for the manager he manages to have conversations in Finnish, German, Spanish, and English. Unbeknownst him the Omega behind the counter, called for Bolton, the manager, the moment she saw him speaking Finnish, and Bolton had been studying him all the time he was passing time by chatting with people. He’s hired on the spot and with a pay that has him holding back a gasp. It isn’t a minimum wage job and he’ll be paid weekly, working four days, free two days on a rolling schedule.

It’s the moment he knows he’s officially out of the slum. He now belongs to another social class than he did before he started college. It’s not the social class he’s aiming for, nor does it make him any less homeless, but he’s moved up in the world.

Finding someplace to live is trickier. If he went back to the slums he could get a place with minor hassle. Maybe even reconquer his old apartment. He thinks it’s a bad idea. He can reconcile with the idea of going back to the slums on an errand or to celebrate a holiday, but not _moving_ back. The better part of the city is harder to find a living arrangement in since cops are relentlessly ‘cleaning the streets’, barely tolerating daytime beggars. He can shower on campus. During the summer the dorms are leased to students taking summer classes, exchange students, and other people Dick’s not sure what they are there for. All he knows is that he can’t live there even if he can sneak in to take care of basic needs. While looking for a place to rent a room or a bed, he roughs it. He’s found a secluded place just by the wall on the outside of campus grounds. A big bush creates an overhang big enough not to be seen when lying down curled into a ball behind it. The earth is hollowed out in a way that makes it comfortable, by given standards. That’s to say, it isn’t comfortable at all, but bearable. The first night he gets into a fight when someone else tries to chase him off. He wins, and isn’t bothered any more after that. He sleeps with his senses on guard for threats on autopilot, getting used to the aches and pains that comes with sleeping with the ground for a mattress.

The tenth night it begins to rain. Water filters through the overhang, and the hollow that made the spot ‘comfortable’ turns it into a lousy place during a downpour. Dick wakes up in a puddle, soaked through and chilled. There’s nothing to do but push his bag out and crawl after it to go search for another spot. He’s blinded by headlights just as he emerges. He curses inwardly, hating to be seen like this. Not much to do about it, though. He’s expecting the car to turn up the street and pass him by and is alarmed when the car stops when it’s parallel to him. He’s expecting campus security or the cops. Who else would stop? But then the passenger door opens and he sees Jeff leaning from the driver’s seat, holding the door open. He jerks his head in a ‘come here’ gesture.

Dick’s mortified. Having one of ‘his boys’ see him like this makes his stomach churn from deep-seated shame. Still, the damage is done so Dick grabs his bag and runs over there. He gets in, putting his bag in the footwell, and closes the door. The car has blessed heating, making it hit home how chilled and soaked he is. His teeth chatter and his limbs tremble. Jeff starts driving without a word. What the hell is he supposed to say? Both Jeff’s scent and expression speak of concern, even if he keeps his eyes on the road, windshield wipers working overtime to keep up visibility. Jeff throws him a glance with a troubled wrinkle between his brows. “Your parents threw you out?”

Dick gives him a closelipped not-quite-smile that doesn’t confirm or deny. 

Jeff nods to himself. “It happens, Sir. Don’t worry. You need to get out of those clothes. There’s a bag in the back with some shirts of mine. They’re dirty, but they’re dry. You can take your wet shirts off and drop on the floor, then put my stuff on before fastening your seatbelt. We’ll get you warmed up properly when we get home.”

Dick turns in his seat and spots the bag. He struggles out of his wet garments and reaches back for the bag. Inside he finds a tee and a thick sweatshirt, both with the red cross symbol on. He puts them on and fastens the seatbelt. This is the first time he’s ridden in a car that isn’t a police car. One day he’ll own a car too, he vows. Maybe two even. He’ll afford it.

His pants are still wet but the dry shirts do wonder for his cold skin. He rubs his hands together and blows on them, all while his teeth slowly stop chattering. Jeff doesn’t say anything for a bit and Dick’s too ashamed to speak, focusing instead on getting warm. They don’t drive for long―ten minutes perhaps―before Jeff stops before the high, spiked gates outside one of the many gated apartment complexes in the better part of the city. He rolls down the window to greet the security guard who opens the gates to let them in. He passes one of the three high rises inside and drives down to the underground garage entrance of the second one. He parks the car. “Grab your things and follow me, Sir,” he instructs and grabs his own bag before he gets out.

Dick grabs his bag and the wet shirts then follows Jeff to a light, clean elevator. They ride to the fifth floor and get out. Jeff unlocks and steps aside to let Dick inside. “Please, take your shoes off in the hallway,” he bids and kicks his own shoes off. The apartment isn’t very big, but compared to Dick’s old apartment in the slums, it’s a castle. “Bathroom’s that way, there’s the kitchen, bedroom, and living room,” Jeff points out. “Wait here.” He goes into the apartment while Dick fumbles to get his boots off. He comes back with a towel. “Better get you warm and clean first. Come on. I’ve got extra clothes you can use so we can wash your clothes while we’re at it.” He leads the way to the large bathroom. It has both a washer and a dryer, as well as a bathtub. “Dump all the clothes you want washed here and I’ll start the machine while you shower.”

Dick keeps following instructions, still half frozen. When he undresses Jeff averts his gaze. It sparks Dick’s good humour. “You’ve seen me get fucked like an animal, seen me in the dorm showers, and now you’re shy all the sudden?”

Jeff throws him a brief glance, lips quirking up in the corners. “That’s different.”

“How so?”

“Because now you’re, um. You’re vulnerable, and it wouldn’t be right to sneak that kind of looks at you right now, Sir.” Jeff keeps his gaze averted while he explains himself, stumbling a bit when pointing out the power imbalances currently between them. But he's relaxed in a way he rarely was on campus, seemingly not uncomfortable with the awkward situation. 

“I didn't think you ever looked at me _like that_ ,” Dick points out with faint amusement and steps into the bathtub, grabbing the showerhead. 

“That's because I'm a good sneak, Sir,” Jeff counters jokingly, smiling slyly at the wall with his eyelids lowered and hands in his back pockets. He's standing with his side to Dick, allowing Dick to watch him while he himself is facing away. He's relaxed and non-threatening in every way, bleeding more calm into the situation. 

Dick chuckles. “Oh dear. I should say,” he says, more to himself than Jeff. Aside from Jeff's flustered assurance that he found Dick attractive when he'd talked about his ‘problem’, Dick's never noticed any implications of attraction. But by implying it now he also hands a lot of confidence back to Dick in the wake of how he found him. Dick pulls the shower curtain closed and turns on the water. 

The silhouette of Jeff moves. “There's unlimited hot water in this apartment so take your time. Do you have any injuries that need tending? I, um, spotted bruising.”

The fading bruises from the fight. Dick nearly says ‘you should see the other guy’ but thinks better of it, considering the guy had barely been able to flee and Jeff might disapprove. “No, I'm fine, dear. Thank you.”

“Alright, I'll leave you to it then, Sir.”

Dick steps into the spray of warm water and leaves himself over to the bliss.

When he gets out 30 minutes later his towel is on the sink, the washer is on, there are clean clothes folded on the toilet lid, and on top of them is a travel sized pack of toiletries including toothbrush, razor, and comb.

He feels like a new man when he emerges from the bathroom dressed in soft sweatpants, a long-sleeved tee, and a zip-up hoodie, freshly shaved and groomed. The apartment smells of food and it draws him to the living room. Jeff's on the couch and turns around when he hears Dick behind him. “Do you mind if we eat in front of the TV? We can move to the kitchen if you prefer.”

Dick regards him for a beat before answering, lips quirking into a pleasant smile. “I've never eaten in front of a TV, so I'm afraid I don't have any preferences on the matter,” he admits. 

Jeff smiles and pats the seat beside him. “In that case, we'll eat here. I've had a hectic day and I like to unwind in front of a movie or nature documentary, occasionally a comedy series. I don't mind watching other things, though, if you prefer. I don't know what you prefer to drink so I brought both coke and beer. Or a glass of wine, perhaps?”

Dick's smile widens as he makes his way over. Nothing hides insecurity as well as a confident smile. “It depends. I've got the next two days off from work. So unless you need me to vacate early morning I would enjoy a glass of wine.”

“I'm not throwing you out, Sir.” Jeff pours him a glass of red wine from the bottle he'd kept on the floor beside him. “Don't worry about it. I wasn't sure if you drank alcohol at all. Never seen you drink. You're not allergic to any food, right? Good. We're having risotto leftovers. I hate cooking so I usually make a huge batch of something simple and live on it for as long as I can. Thank hell for microwaves.” Jeff lifts a plate covering another one with a big heap of creamy, colourful and heavenly-smelling risotto, then hands Dick the glass of wine when he sits down. “The movie has just begun. James Bond, Goldeneye. You seen it? No? Is it okay if we watch it? It's a spy flick.”

Dick chuckles. Jeff's babbling but out of concern for his comfort, not nerves. He holds up his glass to toast with Jeff and in a rare impulse goes for honesty. Guy’s already seen him roughing it, after all. “I've watched maybe two hours of TV altogether in my life, most through the window displays of electronic stores. This will be my first time watching a movie, so I'm going to be delighted no matter what.”

“Really? But I've heard you quote famous movies. Like Wildflower, Children of War, and Cerberus.” Jeff clinks their glasses together and watches him with open curiosity while they both drink. It's a good wine, not the cheap swill Dick's used to. He takes a moment to enjoy the rich multitude of taste and smell before he answers.

“Those are all plays, dear. I've seen a fair share of outdoor theater.”

Jeff chuckles and rubs his neck. “Right. Didn't think of that. I'm a bit uncultured. Watch too much TV.”

“You won't find me judging.” Dick takes a bite of the risotto, eyes widening in surprise. “Mmm! This is delicious! You made this? I thought you said you didn't like to cook?”

“Doesn't mean I'm bad at it, Sir,” Jeff replies with a lopsided smirk and a cocky twinkle in his eyes. 

Halfway through the movie Dick's drowsy, tipsy, and sated. He's had two glasses of wine, currently nursing his third. The downpour has picked up outside, smattering against the windows and punctuated by thunder on irregular intervals. The apartment is warm, clean, and cozy. Jeff's got one wall completely covered by bookshelves full of books. He's got lots of framed photos, paintings, exotic masks and knick-knacks on the walls and spread around the furniture. The rug is huge and soft and looks like those insanely expensive handwoven ones. Most of the exotic items are gifts and it wouldn’t surprise Dick if the rug is too. Jeff’s helped people after an earthquake in the area where those are imported from. There are blankets and throw pillows and a couple of stuffed animal toys. Double layered curtains artfully hung. Jeff's simply a nester of great proportions. 

Despite the action and suspense of the movie, Dick's eyelids are getting heavy. It's well past midnight. He might as well get this over with before he accidentally falls asleep. He reaches out to touch Jeff's shoulder with a content smile to get his attention. “So, Jeff. Real talk. How much is this going to cost me?”

Jeff startles and turns to look at him. “Is what gonna cost you?” he asks in confusion.

Dick pulls his legs up on the couch, one leg underneath himself and turns to face Jeff with a pleasant smile, hitching his elbow over the backrest to support his head on his hand, holding the wine glass in his lap. “This,” he says and gestures with his glass to take in the room. Outside there’s a flash followed by thunder. “That,” Dick points his glass towards a window to indicate the weather.

Jeff takes in what he’s getting at and turns serious. He takes the remote from the table and hits pause, then turns to face Dick, copying his position so they’re sitting face to face knees brushing, Jeff resting his cheek in his hand too. “Nothing. I’d like to see us as friends, Sir. I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m not going to let a friend sleep outside. Nevermind the weather, but the city is a dangerous place at night on any occasion.”

Dick feels like laughing, but doesn’t. “Nothing happened to me, dear. My predicament is caused by my own stubborn refusal to go back home in combination with not yet having found a new place to live. The ads I’ve found for rooms or beds for hire in acceptable locations get occupied as soon as they are placed in the paper. If not, they demand too much rent in advance and I’ve only worked for two weeks, not yet refilled my depleted budget. So if you know anyone who lives within 30 minutes walking distance from the park where I work, who has a guest room to rent out for a reasonable price for the summer, I’d appreciate the help to get in touch with them. I’m not a difficult tenant.”

“If a couch will do, you can stay with me.”

“And what’s the rent? I get paid weekly, but can’t afford anything outrageous. What I earn this summer will have to last me until next summer so I can’t spend all my money on living costs.” Dick’s being honest because Jeff had seen him sleeping in the rough (Keeping track of lies can be hard. Dick’s more of a ‘say nothing at all’ kinda guy.) as well as having revealed his own vulnerability about cross-presenting. Maybe the content tipsiness from the wine helps his candor too. 

Jeff gets a concerned little wrinkle between his brows. “Your parents don’t help you out while you’re studying?”

Dick’s smile grows wide. “My parents have been dead since I was ten.”

“Oh. ...I’ll tell you what. If you handle the cooking most of the days, and help keep the apartment tidy, you can stay here for free. I really don’t need the extra money but I’d love coming home to ready-made dinner once in a while. I know you can cook. I saw you teach George. I don’t expect you to cook every day, but maybe three or four days a week? I also don’t want you to bring people over unless I’ve met them and feel comfortable about inviting them into my home. I hope that isn’t too big of a problem? I know you’ve got needs that I don’t, since you’re not on suppressants. But I ask you to go home to the Alpha in that case. We can talk it over if you find someone you’d like to get serious with. I’m not banning you from getting a boyfriend or anything. And while we’re on the topic of friends. Once a week I meet with the people you helped me get in touch with. We rotate whose home we meet in. I don’t care if they’d feel more comfortable if you aren’t around. This would be your home too so they can suck it up. But those nights usually get pretty late, so then you’ll have to sleep in my bed and I can take the couch. Whoever starts a wash washes the other one’s clothes too, and, um…” Jeff bites his lip and frowns at his glass in thought, trying to come up with other things that would be best having been discussed beforehand to avoid future conflict. “I can’t come up with anything right now. But don’t hesitate to bring up any issues if you feel they need to be addressed. I’d rather solve things right away than have us getting annoyed at each other.”

Dick loves Progs. They are so uncomplicated. “It all sounds good to me. Say, are you in the habit of playing loud British punk music?”

Jeff snorts in amusement. “Definitely not. I sometimes put on a CD or have HitsTV playing in the background, but if you don’t like―”

“I love music. I love to dance and I love music. You want to play music any time of day or night, I’m fine with that. I wouldn’t classify British punk as music, though.”

Jeff laughs, eyes twinkling. “True. Maybe we can go out to dance sometime? Most of my friends aren’t into that and I don’t like going out alone.”

With all the rent money this will save him, Dick figures he can afford to go to a dance club with Jeff. “I’d love to.” He takes a sip of wine and a thought strikes him. “Oh, and since I’ll be sleeping here in the living room and you’ll be passing through, I’d better warn you to avoid freakouts. I often read before I go to sleep, and I read in the light of my flare. So don’t be alarmed if you see two glowing red eyes in the darkness.”

Jeff lifts his eyebrows in surprise. “You can do that? I’ve never considered it might be a possibility.”

“No. I thought it might not, since you’re a Prog. I do several things without thinking about it, that might alarm you. For an instance, Crowley tells me I claw and growl in my sleep when I have nightmares. I don’t know how often that happens, but I figure you should be made aware. I also purr without thinking about it when I’m relaxed and content. Sometimes when I yawn and stretch I teeth or even drop fangs partially. Little things like that. I can control all these things except for how I react in my sleep, so if you find any of that too uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll make sure I don’t do it.”

Jeff chuckles. “I’ve never shared living space with anyone that wasn’t Progressive before, so I didn’t consider these things. Thank you for thinking about it. Is there anything else you do or need from me, that’s to do with your designation?”

Dick thinks about it while drinking the last of his wine. “Yes… there is. But that’s more to do with my condition than my designation.”

“Your scentlessness?”

“Mhm. You see, it’s caused by a constant production of a chemical called dissimulotonin. Normally deep depression causes it, but with me, that’s not the case. However, prolonged production of this chemical can cause body functions to shut down since it tricks my body into thinking I’m alone, unhappy, and in peril. The treatment is fairly simple. If I’m surrounded by scent from other people the brain gets a constant feedback that I’m safe and sound, especially when it's on my skin. I can smell you haven’t marked the apartment up. I would be grateful if you did that. And, if it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable, I’d like if you’d give me one of your used shirts to sleep with? Or even better, your used bed sheets. I’ll make do without, but since you asked…” Dick’s pretty neutral to Jeff’s scent. He smells good enough, but doesn’t make Dick lean one way or another. He still thinks it’ll be helpful. It’s the first time he’s brought this up to somebody like it’s a simple medical condition that needs treatment. But since he’s dealing with a Prog he might as well approach it in their businesslike way.

“Of course. I’ll do what I can. But I don’t produce a lot of secretion from my glands. It’s one of those things that often shut down completely or go down to a minimum already as a kit when you’re raised like a Prog.”

“Really? Then how do you deal with scentlessness?”

“We don’t. We Progs rarely lose our scent like you do.” When Dick thinks about it, he remembers that they talked about Progs being more resilient, less sensitive to chemical unbalance in the body, in Social Biology.

“Interesting…”

* * *

Jeff rubs his temple against the wall with the most wide-eyed, awkward expression. “How do I do this? Am I doing this right?” he asks and looks to Dick for guidance.

Dick can’t help it. He chortles, completely endeared. “You’re doing fine, dear.”

“I feel ridiculous.” Marking things does not come naturally to Jeff. And his I-have-no-idea-what-I’m-doing expression makes it all pure comedy.

“Come here. I know a way that probably won’t make you feel as stupid.” Dick leans back against the couch and makes a wide space between his legs for Jeff to stand in. Jeff comes to stand in front of him as instructed. “Just stand still and trust me,” Dick bids and reaches out to start massaging circles over the glands behind Jeff’s ears. Jeff keeps still and lets him do it. Jeff’s the very opposite of Dick. Dick’s glands are fairly sensitive even when he isn’t in Heat. It doesn’t take a lot for them to start secreting. Jeff on the other hand… Dick can smell that they are secreting a tiny bit but he can’t feel it against his fingers despite the blunt stimulation. Well, why not add another type of stimulant? Dick starts purring, looking Jeff in the eyes with a small smile and lowered eyelids. He can see that the prolonged eye-contact is stirring up unrest in Jeff. Dick’s smile widens. “You’re such good Omega, Jeff. Helping me like this…” 

Jeff’s eyes widen a fraction, pulse jumping visibly at his throat and cheeks heating up. Most notably, though, is the burst of happiness and excitement in his scent. Jeff smiles, gaze flicking down for a beat before coming up to meet Dick’s again. The pads of Dick’s fingers start sliding slicker from the sudden production of secretion. It’s not much, but it’s a lot more than before and all because he referred to the Alpha as the Omega he claims to feel like. Dick removes one hand, tips his head to the side and rubs his neck with Jeff’s scent. He rolls his head to the other side to rub his throat and other side of his neck too, watching Jeff tracking the movement. He’s thrilled to note the beginning of arousal in Jeff’s scent. He puts his hand back to massage Jeff’s ear gland. “This is what you do. You take some of this on your fingers, and you smear it on whatever place you want to mark. Like this.” To demonstrate Dick uses his other hand that now has a coating of oily secretion and drags it along the backrest of the couch. “That way you don’t have to feel so awkward about rubbing your head on things.” He lowers his hands, feeling the first responses to Jeff’s budding arousal in his own body. It’s nothing that was part of their agreement so he’ll keep himself from pushing it further.

“Thank you, Sir,” Jeff says and backs up a step. 

“No, no. Thank _you_.” Dick gives him a playful wink. “It means a lot to me.”

Jeff’s scent remains happy and excited for the rest of the day and the apartment gets thoroughly marked. He did a sound investment helping Jeff in college, and this is the payoff.

* * *

If Crowley had been the roommate from hell (albeit with a good heart), Jeff’s the roommate from heaven. They get along great from the start. Dick gets a spare key and is introduced to the gate guards so he’ll be let in. It’s barely 20 minutes walk from work and Jeff’s kitchen is stocked with food and drink that Dick gets free reign at. Jeff’s got all kinds of books, from big ones about cultures and animals, with vibrant pictures on all sides, to biographies, fiction, and a couple of phrase books for different languages. Dick nabs the language books to try to better himself now that he has to use both German and Spanish almost daily. Jeff comes home one day while he’s cooking, reading the Spanish phrase book out loud, trying to memorise what he doesn’t already know. Jeff greets him in Spanish and proceeds to ask how his day’s been in fluent Spanish. Turns out Jeff’s mother was originally from Guatemala. Jeff also knows rudimentary French, and goes to fetch a real school book for learning French, as well as a CD, from his storage unit in the attic. He lets Dick borrow his CD walkman for him to study and Dick listens to it every day to and fro work. They hang out. Just watching TV sometimes, but more often they end up talking by the kitchen table, sharing a bottle of wine. As time wears on they start doing things together. Go for a drive to the countryside, go out dancing (Jeff’s a great dancer!), head out to a nearby pub to play some pool or dart. Jeff invites Dick to come along when he visits friends and his friends are all welcoming of him. All of them are military or first responders of some kind and care jack shit about what background you have. 

Dick finds himself being very honest with Jeff about things. He tells him about growing up in the slums. Tells him he didn’t want to go back to his apartment lest he runs into his ex. Talks about his double-sided feelings for Peter. About presenting as an Omega, pregnancy, about getting arrested five times for using scent blockers, and even about his short, blissful time with the Europeans, although he leaves out Peter’s part in their death.

Jeff’s a good, attentive listener who talks with the same open candor. His parents were both soldiers and he grew up on a naval base. He joined a Red Cross Juvenile program at 12, and was orphaned at 15, both his parents killed in the same battle. Shortly thereafter he snuck onto one of the Red Cross ships he’d helped load, determined to help other people affected by the war. He’d been found soon enough, but instead of setting him ashore they’d determined that a strong, dedicated Juvenile orphan with three years of training in first aid and crisis response, who could read and write and speak two languages fluently, were better off included as an official part of the mission than left to his own devices at a random port. From that point, he’d travelled all over the world. Helped in natural disasters and war zones alike. He admits being scarred from what he’s seen and lived through, getting occasional bouts of depression. But he burns with a passion for what he’s doing and can’t imagine working with anything else. His college education will serve him, not only to understand all groups in society better, but also lay a foundation for when he’s too old to be hands-on and have to retire to administrative tasks instead.

Jeff’s a truly good person, but he isn’t a saint by any means. He’s got temper flares and can be as vindictive as anyone. Jeff is viciously yelling at the TV during movies or sports. First time Dick sees him yell ‘Stop talking and kill those motherfuckers, you stupid ass!’ at the hero in a movie he keels over laughing at the contrast to whom he normally is. In fiction, Jeff prefers the darkest, goriest, and most horrid stories and movies. He revels in all the dark violence and horrors he spends his life battling. He’s not a morning person and radiates general resentment for at least 30 minutes after he’s woken up.

Jeff’s stationed at the Red Cross office in the city during the summer. He’s got office hours for the most part. But now and then he gets sent to do field work and is gone for a day or two. A dam breach has him gone for four days, coming home wrung out with a hollow stare. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Dick spends the evening pampering him, giving him a massage and sitting curled up to his side while they watch TV nursing a whiskey each.

Jeff shows him how to drive and lets him practice when they take short road trips.

The more time they spend together the more does Jeff’s scent appeal to Dick.

Maybe he should have seen it coming, since this is the deepest, most meaningful relationship he’s had since Henry, but he doesn’t.

It should have been clear that first time Jeff has to go away on a field mission and Dick sees him in full uniform. Something stutters inside of him and he flares, teeths his canines and deep-purrs his appreciation with a leer. Jeff gets one of those bursts of joy and excitement tinted with budding arousal in his scent, and waves Dick off with a grin and a blush. Dick's smiling the whole day for no reason. 

It should have been obvious when they go out dancing and barely dance with anyone else, stay until closing, dancing until they're exhausted and so drenched in sweat even their eyelashes clump together from salty droplets. When all they have the energy to do in the end is a lazy grind, sweaty foreheads leaned together, hands on each other's hips, tired gazes locked and smiles straining their cheeks so hard Dick's cheeks ache all day after and he can barely walk. 

Obvious, in the rampant butterflies of joy he feels when he's finally gotten the hang of driving down an empty country road and Jeff beams at him from the passenger seat, trusting him enough to watch _him_ rather than the road.

Blatant, in the meaningful looks Jeff's friends give each other when they're gathered for dinner, Dick rests his arm over the backrest of Jeff’s chair and Jeff leans back so they touch. Granted, Dick might not have noticed since he’s busy looking at Jeff when he talks.

It’s in all the little things. In how they more often than not end up sitting close enough to touch on the three-seat couch, sometimes tucked in under the arm of the other. In how sleep becomes a necessary evil that pries them away from their deep, wine-drunk, late-night talks where at some point Dick grants Jeff full disclosure, revealing truth upon truth he normally would keep modified to protect himself, and has both of them running on fumes at work since they only get a couple of hours of sleep a night. But Dick walks around being inexplicably happy most of the time which counters the sleep deprivation. Jeff’s scent changes, confirming them as bonded. It’s not a mating bond―it’s the bond of close friends, siblings, or pack, and that might also be part of why Dick’s thrown off instead of clued in. 

Jeff comes home in the wee hours one morning, reeking of sex and Omega in Heat. Dick’s only remark is ‘she smells pretty,’ not mentioning how worry had kept him up that night. Jeff’s home safe, that’s what matters. But he feels sad and rejected the whole day at work, and in the evening Jeff’s being extra nice to him in a hesitant manner like he’s afraid Dick’s going to lash out at any moment. His scent is laced with discontent and mournfulness, hinting at him feeling shame and regret.

They have fights. Of course, they do. You can’t live with someone 24/7 without having some sort of disagreements now and then. Jeff’s temper can flare with big gestures and loud voice. (According to him, it’s his Latino heritage.) Dick’s more chilly in his anger, delivering his points in sharp, polite sentences. But mostly, they resolve things soon enough by simply agreeing to disagree, putting the issue behind them. It’s never about important things anyway. Only once does a disagreement escalate into a real fight where Jeff throws a couple of slurs for Primals at Dick. Dick loses his patience, flares, drops fangs and roars in Jeff’s face. Jeff’s immediately cowed, reeking of fear. Jeff might have a temper but he’s not a man of violence. A tense hour of silence passes, then Jeff apologizes for using the slurs, they talk the fight out and everything’s fine again. Household chores, bathroom routines in the morning, stuff like that work perfectly. Whatever agreement they once started with has turned superfluous. They often end up cooking together, and Jeff teaches Dick a few recipes to exotic but simple dishes he’s learned on his travels. There are constant, casual touches.

Dick’s not in conscious denial. Nor is he unaware of the ever-increasing attraction and occasional flirting. He just doesn’t recognise what’s happening, despite all the blatant and obvious hints, because it’s something Dick’s come to associate with scent and/or sexual bonding. He simply doesn’t recognise the fact that he’s falling in love―the Progressive way, where mind dictates the heart―gradually, instead of crashing into it. Maybe it’s also to do with Jeff’s statement that he’s wanted to sleep with lots of Omegas but not wanted to knot any of them, that plays part in throwing Dick for a loop too, since he can’t consider a relationship where he himself doesn’t get knotted. So, he doesn’t see it coming before it happens.

 

They’re sitting side by side in the couch, feet hitched on the edge of the table, watching some comedy that may or may not be good. Dick can’t really tell. He’s busy being aware of the heat leaking through the fabric by every point of contact, making his skin buzz underneath. Knee, thigh, hip, outside of his arm and shoulder. He’s hyper-aware of Jeff’s arm on the backrest behind him, and every time Jeff laughs or makes a comment throwing a look Dick’s way, fizzy bubbles pop in his belly.

Jeff throws his head back laughing at something happening on the screen. Dick’s missed the joke but quirks his lips up dutifully, unconvincingly.

“Oh, come on. That was super funny,” Jeff says and turns his head towards Dick with a grin.

“I’m sorry, dear. I was distracted and missed the joke,” Dick admits, getting lost in Jeff’s gaze with a little smile.

“What were you distracted by?” Jeff asks, looking from one of Dick’s eye to the other barely blinking, a playful smile on his lips. Something heavy settles in the air. A tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Dick’s smile widens. Jeff’s eyes are hazel, but a tenth of his lower left eye is blue. He’s got a small mole on his upper lip, a mouche like those painted on the face by nobility in the 18th century. Dick almost forgets to answer. “Just thinking.”

“What were you thinking of…?” Jeff asks with a lopsided smile tugging at his lips, voice low and intimate, making Dick’s heart dance nervously in his chest. The whole room is cloaked in anticipation. For what, Dick’s not sure.

He shrugs dismissively, trying to hide how flustered he feels and how fast his heart is beating, staring into Jeff’s eyes, an insistent smile refusing to be subdued.

Jeff’s eyes turn searching, only breaking eye contact to flick his gaze to Dick’s lips, then back up to his eyes again. The tension’s building like a rubber band and Dick licks his lips nervously. He sees Jeff track the motion, look back up, lick his own lips, then lean in. 

Dick's unprepared for the kiss.

Kissing is something very intimate reserved for your mate or perhaps with someone else you feel very strongly for in the heat of passion when you're already knotted and in a state of more-want-yes. Only Progs kiss whoever wherever like it's no big deal. 

Maybe there had been some signs or signals that preluded the kiss that Dick simply failed to interpret, not being familiar with behaviour unique to Progs.

It doesn't stop him from reciprocating, parting his lips to let Jeff's tongue in, breath stuttering. His stomach swoops as if he's free falling. He feels lightheaded, fireflies buzzing under his skin. The slick sensation of warm tongue sliding against tongue is always weird, but now it's better than great. It's tilting Earth on its axis and has him thrilling with jubilant nerves and joy. He closes his eyes and lets Jeff lead. When Jeff breaks the kiss to lean back enough to look him in the eyes with pupils blown they're both slightly winded. “Where you thinking about that?” Jeff asks, voice rough and low, raising a hand to caress Dick's cheek. 

Obviously, _no_. Kissing would never have crossed his mind. But the sentiment is the same and Dick gives him a beaming smile in confirmation. 

Jeff beams back. “Me too.” He leans back in for another kiss. The movie is completely forgotten. They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and kiss, trading caresses, nails scraping lightly in hair, fingers trailing sweetly and experimentally all while Dick’s insides throw a Pyre festival rejoicing in wonder. His belly won’t stop swooping. He’s nervous and elated at the same time. Jeff hitches his fingers under the hem of Dick’s shirt and pulls it up, undressing him. Dick works on opening the buttons of Jeff’s shirt, almost trembling in anticipation of getting to feel skin. To watch and touch. He’s seen Jeff naked before, stepping out of the shower while he brushed his teeth. But he’d thought there’d been an unspoken agreement not to look at each other that way. Sort of how Crowley only deep-purred for him outside their wing, or how Chad and Brad didn’t come on to him in their wing until he’d made clear that they could do so while he was in Heat. Jeff’s face and arms are tanned but his torso isn’t. He’s surprisingly fit. He doesn’t look it when clothed, having soft comfort weight padding his muscles, but his strength is built by the work he does in the field, not shaped by vanity.

Dick’s more insecure about his own body than he’s ever been, being laid bare. He’s gained a _lot_ of weight this summer, eating hefty portions of good food daily, bringing leftovers for lunch at work. On the other hand, some of the residual Juvie softness has disappeared, making his body look more mature. He’s still slim compared to many people in this social class, he’s just never had much body fat coating his wiry muscles before. Progs like Jeff base their attraction on looks to a far greater extent than Primals. He can feel his self-conscious blush spread all the way to his chest when Jeff lays him down on the couch and looks down at him sitting between his legs, taking him in while biting his lip over a smile. Dick keeps smiling to hide his anxiety. But Jeff seems to like what he sees. He crawls on top of Dick and kisses him again. Dick’s heart is bursting with confetti of joy with each beat. He’s so wet only the absorbent properties of his Omega pants keep him from soaking the couch underneath, and he feels how his ear glands have leaked silky oil that’s run down his throat, while Jeff only has a faint sheen on the skin behind his ears due to his reduced production. Jeff’s skin is burning against his. He’s grinding his erection against Dick’s own in lazy circles, swept up in the kissing, lips turned raw. Dick can’t get enough despite the weirdness. They’re sweating now. Not rushing it despite both of them being turned the fuck on. The heavy scent of Jeff’s arousal almost drowns out the strong notes of happiness interlacing it.

Dick’s _yearning_ for more, making needy noises into their kisses, breathing roughly. Jeff starts kissing his way down Dick’s throat. He doesn’t lick at the secretion like ‘normal’ people, but doesn’t avoid it either, and it sticks to his lips like silky lip gloss. Goosebumps rise wherever Dick’s fingers trail or Jeff’s mouth goes. Jeff makes his way downward, kisses and sucks on Dick’s nipples as if they’re important. Dick gasps each breath, arches into it and keens a purr. It makes Jeff stutter and look up in startlement. Dick’s instantly distressed, thinking he’s put Jeff off by making a primal noise. It must have shown on his face because Jeff holds up a hand in a placating gesture and smiles. “No, no. Don’t hold back on my behalf. Be yourself. I was just surprised, that’s all,” he says and goes back to kissing and caressing, suckling on Dick’s nipples teasing them with his teeth before continuing downward.

He’s kissing Dick’s belly and midriff, opening Dick’s pant button and fly with fumbling fingers, then sits up to pull them off, Dick helping by lifting his hips. Jeff removes Dick’s socks at the same time as he pulls his pants off, then inelegantly struggles out of his own pants, socks, and underwear while on his knees between Dick's legs. He goes back to kissing Dick's belly and midriff, continuing down. Dick feels a finger probe at his hole, slipping in almost inadvertently from the wetness. Jeff chuckles breathily. “Fuck, you're wet,” he remarks roughly in delight. 

Then Jeff’s hot-wet-soft mouth sinks down over Dick’s erection. Two fingers slip into his hole with ease and the other hand comes up to tweak and tease a nipple. Dick’s eyelids fall shut, he gasps and squirms to get closer, trembles with lust. He keens another purr and flares under closed lids, burying his hands in Jeff’s dark hair. There’s a pressure in his jaws and he unthinkingly gives into it, dropping his fangs slowly. Jeff makes greedy noises, spurred on by every whimper, purr and gasp he wrings out of Dick. He brings Dick to the brink of orgasm before he suddenly stops to crawl over Dick to kiss him eagerly again. If he’s bothered by the red light of Dick’s eyes or his fangs, it doesn’t show.

When he pushes in Dick forgets how to breathe for a bit, shell-shocked.

It’s the logical next step, but Dick hasn’t forgotten that Jeff said he’s never wanted to knot an Omega. Looking up in Jeff’s eyes there’s nothing to say that Jeff’s doing something he doesn’t want to. Jeff starts moving slowly, dropping his head to kiss again.

Dick squeezes his eyes shut, every nerve ending on fire in the best of ways, heart too big. He clings to Jeff. “ _Jeff, please,_ ” he begs, rolling his hips to meet Jeff’s slow grind. Jeff speeds up then, laboured breaths puffing warmth into Dick’s kiss-abused mouth.

When Jeff’s about to come he starts pulling out. Dick’s legs wrap around him and holds him firm, preventing him from coming with the knot outside. Jeff chokes out a plea, but can’t hold back. He comes with a gasped moan twitching and jerking. Dick follows him over as soon as the knot is pushing inside of him.

The move to the bedroom. Jeff carries him there, firmly knotted together then lie kissing and caressing each other. Once the knot’s gone down they do it again, and then again. Jeff doesn't stimulate his glands even once but it doesn't stop Dick from shivering with pleasure and joy. 

After their third go they are finally too exhausted and sated to go on. Dick lies soaking Jeff in with his gaze, painting his face red with the glow from his eyes.

“You know, some consider having sex with someone like you beastiality?” Jeff remarks and caresses Dick’s cheek lovingly. He lies on his side pressed to Dick’s side with a leg over Dick’s midriff, supporting his head in his hand.

“Oh dear. Like me? However do you mean?” Dick asks drowsily with a lax smile that feels like it might become a permanent thing.

Jeff grins and hooks his finger between Dick’s lips and tugs playfully at one of the fangs. “Primals. I know you don’t identify as such, nevertheless, you display traits like they do.” There’s no malice whatsoever when he says it and Dick’s not offended either.

“Do _you_ consider it bestiality?” he asks with lazy curiosity.

Jeff chuckles. “Of course not. Besides, I went to college to get rid of that kind of thinking. Although…”

When Jeff trails off and it’s apparent he isn’t planning to go on Dick lifts a prompting eyebrow.

“Um. I’ve seen…” Jeff lowers his voice. “There are Primals that can almost do full shifts. I’ve seen it. They still had the humanoid form, but their physique changed, so did their faces and ears, and they had fur all over. They were Packrunners from Norway sent to keep us safe while we evacuated wounded refugees from a war zone,” he whispers. Then he lets his voice go back to normal, now that he imparted the scary-bad-wrong secret. “It’s hard to look into someone’s eyes and see a human when an hour earlier they’ve practically been a clothed wolf.”

_Wolf._

Toivo’s dead form with the short fur on his face, making him look like a wolf comes to mind for a beat. It comes paired with a stab of longing even in this happy setting. He’s not sure what Jeff sees in his face, but it prompts Jeff to go on.

“I can’t look into the eyes of a wolfcat and see an equal of intelligence, and then not see the same when looking into a shifter’s eyes. But I don’t think I could bring myself to have a sexual relationship with someone like that, any more than I could with a wolfcat. It _would_ feel like beastiality.”

Dick hums noncommittally. Maybe that’s why Toivo never showed him he could do that? “Can I ask you something?” Dick asks, changing the subject.

“Of course.”

“You told me you’ve never wanted to knot an Omega. I was surprised when you did…?”

Jeff smiles, wide and beautiful. “Sometimes you just want to make love to someone so badly you don’t care how you do it. We’ve been tiptoeing around this for a month. I could see no reason to waste more time when it's obvious how we feel about each other.”

It hadn't been obvious to Dick. It makes him think Progs are even more different from other groups than he’d thought. Maybe that’s why they lost primal senses and abilities so fast, morphcells going completely dormant even in converts sometimes. Their behaviour and courting diverged from all the other groups on every level. “Mmh. I’m not going back to sleep on the couch,” he declares with a content smile.

Jeff laughs. “I sure as hell hope not!”

* * *

“Why have you got perfume?” Jeff asks with a troubled frown, holding the small vial that had fallen out of Dick’s pants pocket when he picked the pants from the floor.

Dick stretches languidly in bed. “That’s not perfume, dear. It’s a secretion sample I use for siphoning to make sure my body doesn’t shut down. I’ve been getting those from the college medicine staff as part of a project. I only got two left until we go back to college. Although, with us sleeping together I won’t need to use them as long as we’re not using condoms,” he purrs drowsily and looks at his boyfriend.

“Not perfume?”

“No.”

“So it won’t knock my vision and sense of smell out if I open and take a sniff?”

Dick giggles and shakes his head. He’s been subjected to perfume a couple of times. From 300-400 feet away you could catch fairly pleasant floral or other nice smells coming from it. But up close it burns your olfactory receptors to cider, makes your eyes water and sting, and overall hurts like hell. It’s a highly illegal substance that noseblind Progs sometimes use in a fucked up mimicry of scent attraction. It’s common within closed Prog communities, and in towns like the one Chad comes from, where pretty much _everyone_ is noseblind. Come to think of it, it’s not that strange that Chad’s parents―who are loving, supporting and caring parents―wanted to disable Chad’s primal senses. Chad had frequently needed to wear gas mask and goggles while in public, growing up. The school was a perfume free zone except for special events like the prom. Chad had opted not to go because of it. He’d told Dick about the absolute freedom he’d felt coming to college, hanging with Primals and being in an environment where if you’d get caught wearing perfume people would hunt you down and kill you in self defence unless the cops got to you first, in which case you’d be looking at a harsh prison punishment for the use of a chemical weapon. There’s a lot of money in the black market for perfume, and the cops didn’t bother doing crackdown in the closed communities where it’s used.

Jeff uncorks the lid of the vial carefully and takes a whiff. “Huh. And you’ve been siphoning this?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t hooked up with this guy regularly all summer?” Jeff asks with wide eyes and corks the vial again.

Dick laughs. “No, definitely not.”

“Then who took care of you during your Heat?”

“Nobody, dear. Why do you think I was such a pissy little bitch during that time?”

Jeff shrugs. “I thought… If I'd known I'd made a move sooner. I was waiting to see if you'd introduce him to me as someone you were getting serious with,” he admits.

The thought of seriously dating Sebastian almost makes Dick laugh. “Not even close, dear. The only guy I'm serious about is the one in the mirror beside you.”

Jeff chuckles and puts the vial back where he found it before coming back to bed. “Likewise, Sir,” he says, crawling in under the comforter to kiss Dick then grabs the remote and flips the TV on. Jeff's got _two_ TVs. The one he had in his dorm room is currently hanging on the wall in his bedroom. Like most of his expensive belongings, one of them was a gift. 

Not much has changed since they got together, except an active sex life. They sort of traded off, whom of them was the ‘Alpha’. The morning after that first night Dick had deep-purred for Jeff, flared and dropped fangs, then trapped him against the counter while Jeff fumbled with his belt to get his pants off to present. It was Dick's first time topping and he'd used his own slick as lube. It felt good but he still prefers being the receiver.

Since then Dick's figured out that it's not the Primal aspects that drive Jeff mad about it, but it's feeling like an Omega. Progs don't have gender roles as such. There are no differences in how Alphas and Omegas court each other. Not like with Primals and Conservatives who each have specific gender-based behaviours. Just calling Jeff Omega will have him jubilant. 

They hold hands when they're out and about. 

Jeff had found an adult toy store. They went there together and as a result Dick now has three toys. The most prized one is a ring you put at the base of your dick and control with a wireless remote. A press of a button and it inflates like a knot. He keeps it with him at all times in case he needs it to fuck Jeff. He can also put it on his new vibrating dildo if he wants to. The third is a plug. It’s a hassle to get in―even he needs to work himself open properly to put it in―but it supposedly works wonders to reduce Heat discomforts during work hours. He hasn’t had the chance to try it for its designated purpose yet, but he has worn it to work and it _does_ have a calming effect, putting pressure at the right spots. You can fill it with gland secretion to have it slowly release it over the day. They filled it with Jeff's come and it works just as well. They’re playing Russian roulette with the risk of getting pregnant. Dick doesn’t care. Looking at Jeff, all he feels is warmth and happiness. The idea of getting pregnant and _not_ lose the kit is… well. Jeff would be an excellent father and Dick’s not all averse to the idea.

Right now, though, Jeff seems troubled. “What are you thinking about?” Dick asks.

“Nothing. I just… It never occurred to me that you might have to be a Primal because of your condition. That you can’t convert even if you wanted too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you told me you need to be surrounded by scent to be safe. But if you need to siphon to stay safe, then that’s a whole other ballgame.”

“I don’t _need_ to. It’s like getting a massive injection of antidote in comparison to taking daily pills of low levels of it. I can go without both. Remember I told you that Crowley’s shirt was what saved me?”

“Yeah, but. That’s when you experienced a soft fade of a bond to someone you _wanted_ to leave albeit still loved, that you’d mentally prepared to leave. In biology class, we talked about bond loss, and our thoughts and feelings have a massive impact on how bond-loss affects us.”

“You forget that I was still mourning the Europeans at the time,” Dick points out.

“No, that’s my point. I travel a lot while working, sometimes I’m away for longer periods. I’m not at all comfortable with letting you, or anyone, siphon me. I’d still let you, because I love you. But even if we’d milk my glands for a week we’d barely get enough to fill one of those vials. So what if something happens to me while I’m away? Or what if something happens to Crowley, Chad, Brad, or anyone else you care deeply about while I’m away. It might hit you hard and you’d have no counter for it.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. You think too much,” Dick soothes, staving off his own anxiety for what Jeff’s pointing out.

Jeff takes a deep breath then sighs and cuddles closer. “Yeah… yeah, you’re probably right.”

* * *

“I was born over there.” Dick points to the bombed-out ruin. He’d sworn not to go back, but he’d folded like a house of cards when Jeff expressed curiosity, wanting to see Dick’s old neighbourhood. Jeff would, of course, have taken a no, but that’s also why Dick had said yes without a moment’s hesitation. He’s taken Jeff on a guided tour, pointing out his old hiding places and homes, telling anecdotes, describing festivals and celebrations. He likes Jeff’s interest and actually enjoys being back a little bit. Even if it entails stepping over beggars, avoiding people who smell of disease, pain, and starvation, as well as teething threateningly at people who eyed them the wrong way. Jeff expresses admiration for his resilience, rather than pity, even though Dick can see in his eyes that it hurts him to think of Dick’s hardship, growing up.

They walk to a plaza when Dick’s bladder insists on needing to be emptied. “I need to pee. I’ll do it in the alley over there.”

“I’ll wait here.”

“It’s better if you come with me.”

“Dick, there’s nobody here and you’ll only be gone for a minute. Nothing’s going to happen,” Jeff assures him.

Dick doesn’t like it but reluctantly agrees. The plaza is empty at the moment and he can’t smell anyone nearby. Jeff’s a grown, healthy Alpha. He’d put most predators off in an open space like this, so Dick lets it slide. He goes to the alley while Jeff stays and admires the dried up fountain in the middle of the plaza. Dick pisses like a racehorse. He’s had too much coffee and coke to drink to be spending a full day walking.

When he comes back the scent of Jeff’s fear, as well as another familiar scent, hit his nostrils before he even turns the corner. _Hales_.

His heart hammers in fright. He turns the corner and spots them. Three Hales have Jeff backed up towards a wall and are advancing menacingly.

_NO!_

Dick begins the slow drop of his fangs, curling his fists in to hide his claws, then approaches. When he gets closer he scents that hiding the claws won’t do any good since one of the Hales is familiar and knows about them already. He just didn’t pinpoint the guy straight away since he’d been a Juvie last time they saw each other and now he’s presented, changing his scent somewhat and his appearance _a lot_. He’s a man grown now. Jeff spots him but doesn’t call attention to him, holding his hands up in defeat and talks calmingly to the three.

Dick approaches from behind, pulse thundering in his ears and palms getting sweaty. One of the Hales pulls a knife and Dick flares his strongest flare. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” he says.

All three of them spin around. Dick smiles, a show of teeth and a promise of death. “Long time no see, Hale,” he tells Derek.

“Is that the guy who knocked you up twice and left you to lose the kits?” Jeff asks. He looks terrified.

“No. That would be Peter. This here is Derek, his nephew.”

Derek’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s got the same blue flare as Peter. He’s really come into his own. A very handsome, tall Alpha with broad shoulders and dark stubble. To think what a year can do.

The guy with the knife growls and moves as if to attack Dick, but Derek holds his hand up to stop him. “No. That’s Peter’s mate,” he says.

“ _That’s_ Richard? _The_ Richard?” The guy asks in bewilderment and lowers his knife.

“Yes.”

Dick smiles amicably. “Congratulations to presenting as an Alpha, Derek. You sure do make a strapping specimen. But I’m afraid we have to go, and don’t have time to stay and chat. So if you’d be so kind to not stop us, none of you will get your throats torn to shreds,” he says and flexes a hand regarding his claws then meets Derek’s gaze.

Derek gestures to his companions and they back off with wary eyes. Dick walks up to Jeff, takes his cold, sweaty hand and leads him away with one last, fake-friendly smile at the Hales.

The Hales take off running in the opposite direction, no doubt to tell Peter of the encounter.

_Fuck._

“Shit, I thought they were going to kill me.”

“They might have, but not likely if you’d cooperated and handed over your valuables.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I should never have asked you to go back.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I said yes, didn’t I? Besides, you’re not responsible for their actions. But we need to hurry and get out of here, in case…” Dick doesn’t finish the sentence. His guts twisting nervously.

“You looked so badass. I thought you looked intimidating when you threw Angelina out of our dorm, but you looked ten times scarier when you faked friendliness. It’s like you were made of ice, toying with them,” Jeff gushes fearfully as he hurries along. 

“Yes, well, they’re Packrunning trash. Even if I’d been able to take them out we’d be dead meat the moment they called for help. Posturing is all I had. The short period I was pack-bonded to them also helps, by my guess. Derek, at least, had smelt that bond on me. That shit comes with compulsion as strong as any mating bond.” They hurry through streets and alleys, Jeff’s scent of fear receding the further away they come. Dick’s glad he doesn’t have a scent or his own anxiety would probably keep Jeff afraid and fear might lure in other predators.

They’re almost back to better neighbourhoods when somebody drops down in front of them from above. Dick stops dead and sucks in a breath that catches in his throat. Now Peter’s standing there, red-cheeked, chest heaving from exertion. He must have run all the way. He smells as gorgeous as he ever did, except there’s no note of their mating bond left. He looks thinner, more tired and drawn. His scent is laced with mourning and distress. “Is it true? Were you pregnant with my kits?” he asks in lieu of hello.

Dick’s heart works overtime. He _aches_. Part of him wants to close the distance and bury his nose in the crook of Peter’s neck, have him mark him up good and proper, and never let go. His heart is breaking into a million pieces just by seeing him. Jeff’s momentarily forgotten, despite the supportive squeeze he gives Dick’s hand. “Yes.”

“Are you sure they were mine?”

“Yes. You were my first. Then it was always you, up until Malicia told me she’d never let us be together and I gave into the Europeans’ courting. Before that, you never missed a single Heat, Peter. Never. When I said you did, it’s because pregnancy delayed it. I’d never been with anyone but you.”

“Why didn’t you _tell me_?” Peter’s eyes are pleading, desperate. He looks like Dick just stabbed him repeatedly with a knife.

It’s Dick’s heart bleeding all over the place. “What difference does it make? _Would_ it have made a difference? Malicia wouldn’t have let us be together either way. She made that clear. Losing the kits was no big deal for me. My body rejected them as soon as our bond faded and _that_ hurt. Over and over and over I lost our bond and it fucking _hurt_.”

Peter’s making that pitiful clucking noise and Dick wants to go to him, comfort him and tell him everything’s going to be alright. It won’t. Dick wants to roar his rage in Peter’s face, wants to hit him, kick him. He wants to curl into a ball and cry just to have Peter comfort him.

“Come back to me. I miss you. I’ll make it right this time, I swear it to you. I’ll fix this. I love you, Richard. I miss you so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes.” Peter’s broken plea compresses Dick’s ribcage, forbidding it to expand for air.

“Don’t you think I felt that way too every time you went away? What’s between us can’t be fixed! Maybe once, but not now. You made your choice. I still have nightmares about seeing you standing over Toivo’s dead body. You killed my other mates and I was dependant on you to survive the mourning. How do you think that makes me feel?! It nearly killed me, Peter. _You_ nearly killed me! It doesn’t matter if I still love you, and still miss you sometimes, that will _always_ be in the way.” Dick’s calm exterior is cracking like porcelain. Salty tears run down his cheeks and everything hurts.

Peter's crying now too, looking so small and broken Dick wants to turn and run for all he's worth. “I'm sorry, Richard. I didn't have a―“

“ _Choice?_ ” Dick finishes for him. “You had a lot of choices and at every turn, you chose your pack before me until I was _dying_. You could have chosen to come to me even when I wasn't in Heat to ensure I didn't lose our bond, but you didn't because you didn't want to anger your Main when the payoff wasn't enough for _you_. You could have chosen to tell your packmates to let you know if I came and asked for you. But guess what? You didn't! You could have chosen to not be part of the attack on my pack. It still would have happened, but you personally wouldn't have ripped my heart out. And you could _not have_ **killed my Toivo**!” Dick's voice breaks and he has to avert his face. He hadn't thought he'd react so strongly to seeing Peter again. He aches, yearns, rages on the inside. It had been easier to leave the last time. He’d been numb and determined. But now? Peter's mournful clucking rips at him, so does Peter's tears and heartbroken expression. “It's too late for us, Peter. It doesn't matter if I love you. Malicia knew what she was doing keeping us apart. I hate her and no ending she could suffer would be bad enough. She killed us. She killed our kits in my belly and she ordered you to lead the attack against my other mates so you could prove your loyalty to her. I've literally had the blood of our point of no return sticking to my shoes. I can't hate you. I've tried, believe me. But I can't forgive you. This is goodbye.”

Peter makes a wounded noise and Dick can't fucking breathe. In a last effort to not break completely, Dick starts moving, still holding Jeff's hand. When he passes Peter, Peter's hand shoots out to stop him. His mournful scent is suffused with pain that hadn't been there before―internal pain strong enough to turn physical. “I love you, Richard,” he pleads. 

Dick makes a grimace of sorrow and regret. “I love you too. But it's too little, too late. I'm sorry.”

Peter lets go when Jeff tugs Dick along. When they are out of sight they can hear Peter's wail of sorrow ripped from his very core. It cuts like knives. Dick's barely aware of being bundled into the back of a cab and held closely while he sobs. He doesn't come back to himself until much later, discovering that they're back at home naked in bed. Jeff's knotted inside of him holding him close and pressing his face towards his neck. When he discovers that Dick is lucid he orders Dick to siphon. There's not a trace of arousal in his scent and he has tear tracks of his own on his face. It’s not surprising, Jeff’s a man made of empathy, after all. Jeff asks him later if he's mad about the knotting. Apparently, after the revelation that Dick siphoned vials he'd borrowed a book about Primal mourning and scent-loss, and he'd tried to comfort him through the means he'd read about in fear of Dick's condition killing him. It's not the Progressive way so he's unsure if he did the right thing. Of course, he did the right thing. You can't get any closer than being held and knotted while siphoning someone. How do Progs do it? They just hold each other. Dick thinks they're getting the short end of the stick. Jeff also apologizes. “I'm sorry. When I heard they were Hales I took a petty jab at your ex by dropping that comment about losing his kits. I wanted him to suffer for what he did to you. I didn't realize he already did. I didn't understand how much you still love each other.”

To Dick's mind, Jeff did nothing wrong. Jeff isn't bothered by Dick having told Peter he loves him. Jeff still has strong feelings for some of his exes. Just because it didn't work out doesn't mean the affection dies. 

Dick isn't dragged down by the incident for more than a day. Instead, Peter's pain becomes part of his nightmares. That's okay. He rarely remembers his dreams anyway. 

They're happy together. Jeff's scent is slowly changing. They're developing a mating bond. None of them acknowledges it with words but Dick's jubilant and he can smell that Jeff is too. He can see them living a long and happy life together. He's never been so open and honest with anyone and he trusts Jeff with all his heart. When they make love he subconsciously tones down the primal parts. He doesn't even reflect on it, it just happens. Keened purrs are switched for moans and verbal encouragement. When Dick first dirty talks Jeff calling him an Omega Instead of deep-purring, Jeff reacts just as strongly as he does when courted primally. Jeff still calls him Sir sometimes and loves it when Dick turns bossy. Dick loves when Jeff goes all submissive. They make a game of it on occasion. It's definitely a kink thing for Dick, like being referred to as an Omega is not, for Jeff. Even with occasional bickering, they have a great balance and love runs strong. He could never have guessed it was possible to find love with someone whose scent appeared so bland to him, in the beginning. 

Summer is nearing its end. Dick steps inside the door and is hit by a strange mix of scents - excitement, happiness, distress and sadness. He finds Jeff at the kitchen table, an open envelope in front of him and a paper in his hand. He looks up when he hears Dick. His face is serious and he says the words that are harbingers of bad news everywhere. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“The future.”

“Okay?” Dick makes his way to the table and sits down with a nervous beat in his heart. Jeff hands him the paper in his hand. 

“I did what you told me last semester. I used my contacts in the Red Cross to see if I could get a transfer to one of the Nordic countries to get a special education in Primal communication from a Packrunner. Just like you said, right? We weren't dating at the time so there was no reason to stick around.”

Dick stares at the paper in his hand. It's an acceptance letter to a college in Norway with a part-time practical placement in a pack that are focused on battleground first aid.

“At first they said no, due to the war raging, but now there's a truce and… I could still decline, but it put our future in the spotlight.”

Dick looks up in Jeff's serious face. The contradictory scents make sense now. He feels excited and happy about this letter but distress and sadness about having to either decline or leave Dick. 

Dick puts down the paper. “Would you mind if we do this over a glass of wine?”

“Please.”

Once they've settled back with a glass of red Dick's belly is a ball of ice.

Jeff takes a deep breath and starts talking. “I would decline to stay here with you. I can learn what I need to here too. But it got me thinking. What will happen once we're done with college? Travelling around the world helping people is a passion of mine. It's more than just an occupation. What I'm doing now, working mostly in an office, is killing me and I hang in there knowing I only have to suffer through three more years of this. And I wonder if you could consider working for the Red Cross too? I don't know how strongly you feel about the dream of yours to work on a big corporation and live a life of luxury? But there's definitely use of your talents in the Red Cross and… they wouldn't separate a mated pair.” Jeff takes a deep gulp of wine and reaches out to hold Dick's hand with a hopeful expression. 

It's the first time either of them has mentioned what's happening between them. The scent of the mating bond is still ambiguous and Dick doesn't smell as strongly of Jeff as he's done of previous partners since Jeff never marks him. But it's still almost there and he resists his backbone reaction of telling Jeff no right off the bat. Instead, he sips his wine and mulls it over, thinking what jobs he could do if he went with Jeff’s option. He’d be going into every hellhole on Earth to play at being some kind of hero, helping people he doesn’t know that’s done nothing for him and guaranteeing no loyalty. He’d be free-willingly seeking out the discomforts he swore to leave behind, that has been his main drive all through his life. “Or… you can just come home to me between deployments? That way we can both pursue the careers we’ve dreamed of all our lives.”

A burst of sadness reaches his nose, even if Jeff keeps it off his face. “Normally, yes. But with your condition… I’ll be gone for months at a time. You told Peter it hurts you every time the bond fades. And when I’m gone for too long, it’d fade for you. The smell of me in the apartment, would fade. I’d call and write, but once we got trapped for nine months when an armed conflict flared up and cut off our retreat. We had no means of getting word home. Imagine that happening. You’d think I was dead. Imagine what that’d do to you? Sure, you could siphon vials as long as the project you told me about goes on. But what if it gets shut down? With how insanely unethical it is I’m surprised they even got clearance and funding to go through with it. Or found someone who’d volunteer samples knowing a stranger would siphon it. As far as I know, even Conservatives and Primals are squeamish about letting people siphon them. For good reason, I might add. Even I, who live to help, and save lives, wouldn’t have allowed it if I didn’t love you. And with my low production, it’d take a full week of intense lovemaking to fill one of those small vials that you’d fill in minutes when you get your glands stimulated.”

Dick sips his wine, having trouble swallowing past the lump forming in his throat. He still listens attentively looking into Jeff’s concerned eyes and serious face as he goes on talking. It gets clear to Dick that this is something that Jeff’s been thinking about a lot, that he never let go of after Dick made the reveal about the vials.

“As long as we’re together it’s no problem, but when I’m gone… And I don’t have a huge problem with you seeking what you need from other people. I’d lie if I said I wouldn’t occasionally get jealous but I’m not averse to polyamory. I could consider bringing a third party into our relationship. But. It’d have to be someone I _too_ could love. We’d have to look and court that person together. I know myself. If you’d just bring someone home and introduce them as your other mate I’d blow a fuse. And I think, he or she, would have to be Primal. Because let’s face it - you _can’t_ live solely like a Prog with other Progs. You have needs only Primals can remedy or you run the risk of dying. Some form of trauma happens you run the risk of dying when others don’t, because your glass is already filled to the brim where most of us have it half full. So please, consider my suggestion. With my contacts, the Red Cross would hire you on the spot.”

Dick argues that it isn’t that bad, that he’ll do fine being separated. But he’s been too honest with Jeff before and now it’s biting him in the ass. Their discussion goes on all night, both of them crying at times. But in the end, Dick gives up and suggest that maybe it’s for the better if Jeff goes to Norway. Jeff’s willing to stay here with Dick, but Dick thinks that if he does they’d be firmly mated once college is over, and the pain of breaking up would be much worse. So it’s reluctantly agreed that they’re going to break up. They’ll spend one last day as lovers and do a speedy sort of fade - basically a reversal of how their romance began. It’s hard, but it works. By the time Jeff drops him off outside the college gates on his way to the airport, their bond has morphed into a friend-bond even if their hearts haven’t gotten the memo yet. Jeff promises to write and to provide a phone number as soon as he has one. They share one last kiss and then he’s gone.

Dick vows he’ll never be so honest about his condition ever again. If anyone else catches him siphoning a vial he’ll tell them he’s chasing a siphon-high or uses them to manipulate people’s reaction to him. It won’t be complete lies and he’ll never have anyone deny giving separation a try because they care too much...

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! :D Soon we go back to the future! ;) I'm finally well enough to work again, which makes me happy. You know what else makes me happy? Your comments. Hand 'em over. ;D


	14. The Williams Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's trying to avoid getting close to Mike and Luci to avoid heartbreak. But life throws him a curveball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said 14 chapters but _dammit!_ This would have turned out to be double this long if I didn't add another last chapter. :P We _are_ nearing the end, though. :)

### Getting Too Close To The Sun

“ _The in-house O-bro!_ ” Dick’s barely set foot inside his dorm wing before he’s _attacked_ by an exuberant, overgrown man-puppy sweeping him up in a massive hug that lifts him off the floor. Chad rubs his temples against him affectionately and Dick laughs, responding in kind while wrapping his legs around him to help hold himself up. Chad sniffs his throat thoroughly enough for it to tickle, making Dick squirm and giggle. “You been chilling with Jeff this summer,” Chad concludes. “Where is he?”

“On his way to a college in Norway. Where is Bra― _ouff!_ ” Dick's cut off when someone slams them against the wall with a hug that encompasses them both. Naturally, it's Brad pinning Chad against the wall sandwiching Dick with a happy laugh. “Dear me. This brings back good memories.”

Brad sniggers and shamelessly presses his crotch against Dick. A surprised ‘ _eep_ ’ says he might have grabbed Chad’s ass for leverage. “Agreed. Let's make more of them,” he suggests leerily. He smells both stronger and better than last year, and he’s definitely in pre-Rut. His scent also gives away that he just came in from outside and that he hasn’t spent time with Chad recently.

“Bro, since when are you off your suppressants?” Chad remarks, taking deep breaths since he can’t reach to properly scent Brad.

“Since all summer. Dad thought I'd play better football without it.”

“Does it work?”

“Nah, bro. I just get horny, frustrated, and butthurt. I don't get how Luci does it. Met him last week. The guy was in full-blown Rut without so much as breaking a sweat.”

“No way!”

“No joke, bro.”

Dick almost groans. The last thing he needs is the gorgeous smelling devil to have gone off his suppressants, multiplying his magnetism. “Oh dear. What did he go do that for?” Dick asks rhetorically and drops his legs from Chad’s waist but remains standing pressed between the two. It feels good. It erases some of the aches from leaving Jeff.

Brad doesn’t know it’s a rhetorical question so he answers. “He got tired of losing to our Crowley all the time and this year they’re gonna start debating and arguing cases with classmates for a jury.”

“Making up for a missing brain with charisma,” Chad sniggers.

“Hey, bro, that’s unfair. Luci’s sharp as a whip,” Brad protests.

“He’s good, yeah, but he still needs to cheat to beat Crowley, bro,” Chad points out.

“It’s not cheating, using your assets, bro. Guy smells so good right now even _I’d_ be hard pressed to resist him. Despite him being an Alpha.” Brad turns his head directing himself to Dick. “I mean, could _you_ resist him? Would you?” as if he wants to prove a point.

“Oh definitely. Vehemently,” Dick answers with a pleasant smile and finally extracts himself from the nice sandwich, loathing that these two know about his little crush. He hooks his arms around the neck of the both of them and tugs, keeping them close to each other. “Did you know that Alphas are designed to have Alpha on Alpha sex too, biologically speaking? You’ve got the same sort of receptors as we do down there, only slightly fewer.”

Chad looks at Brad, blinks a couple of times, then averts his face turning a delightful crimson, scent getting all jumbled. Brad looks at the floor with a smile tugging at his lips, side-eyeing Dick. “I didn’t know that, bro.”

“It bears thinking about,” Dick says, casting a meaningful look between the two of them then raising a pointed eyebrow towards Brad. He’s determined to get these two together, even if he’s making himself surplus. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go unpack.” He turns around, grabs his bag from the floor where he dropped it when Chad pummeled him, and walks to his room. Behind him, he can hear one of Chad and Brad’s one-worded conversations only they know what they mean.

“Bro?”  
“Bro.”  
“ _Bro_.”

They definitely have a language of their own.

* * *

Unlike last year, Crowley’s already properly unpacked when Dick enters. Better yet, Dick’s bed is made with Crowley’s used sheets that he must have brought with him like that instead of washing everything before he packed. Dick makes a trilling noise of delight. “You thought about me. I'm touched. Really.”

“Sometimes I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not,” Crowley mutters and comes to greet him with a temple rub. “Welcome back, darling.” He sniffs Dick carefully. “You're not switching rooms, are you?”

Dick hugs him and gives him an affectionate temple rub in return. There's no need to ask what prompted the question. “No. Jeff's on his way to Norway. We'd almost developed a full mating bond before we realized that our main objectives clash too much. He wants to heal the world and I want it to fear me.” He can smell a strange Alpha on Crowley’s skin.

Crowley sniggers when Dick lets go of him. “I like your version better. Fag?” he asks and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. 

“Yes, thank you. We did a soft fade but I'm afraid I'm still waiting for the heart to catch up.”

Crowley lights a cigarette each for them and hands one over, then goes to sit on his chair while Dick goes to dump his bag on the bed to unpack. “We can share a bed if it helps,” he suggests. “But I’m taking you’re going to spend your Heat with the bro-sters, considering I can smell both of them on you. So Brad finally arrived, huh? About time. Chad’s been pacing the corridor for hours, bugging us about him like a wanker.”

The cigarette smoke is a calming balm in Dick’s body. He keeps his cig pinched between his lips when he opens his bag and starts putting items away. “Unless you’re up to the task of knotting me, I will. Speaking of Brad… he told me Lucifer’s gone off his suppressants to be able to beat you in debates. Apparently, they’d met last week and Lucifer was in full Rut without breaking a sweat.”

“ _Bollocks!_ ” Crowley suddenly reeks of discontent.

Dick thinks of what Chad said. “Don’t worry, dear. He’s good, but you’re Crowley. You’ll do fine.” The comment makes Crowley’s discontent lessen and something pleased lace itself in with it. “Say, who’s the Alpha I can smell on you?” Dick asks.

Crowley takes a long drag on his cig and regards Dick in silence for a moment before he answers. “That’d be Balt.”

Dick stops what he’s doing and turns around to stare at Crowley. “Balthazar’s an _Alpha_?”

“You got any problems with that?” Crowley asks defensively.

Dick chuckles. “Dear me, definitely not. Oh my. No. No, I’d just jumped to faulty conclusions before. You should invite him over. Give me something pleasant to watch while I feign sleep. Maybe you’d be the screamer for once,” he says and winks.

Crowley doesn’t answer that. But he does snigger and looks away, a pink blush spreading prettily on his cheeks.

* * *

Dick had decided that Michael and Lucifer must be avoided to evade trouble and heartbreak this year. That plan goes down the drain the first week of classes as it turns out he has two classes with Michael and one with Lucifer. Lucifer walks in with a following because of course he does. He acknowledges Dick with a nod while he passes―nothing more―and Dick has trouble focussing for the full lesson since the bastard chooses to sit only seven seats away from him. His scent hangs in the air more strongly and 10 times better smelling than when he was on suppressants. Dick has the urge to cry and wishes he could be a noseblind Prog and be done with it. 

Michael is far from that aloof. The fucker lights up like a sun when he enters the classroom and spots Dick. He makes his way to Dick like a fucking homing-bird because _of course_ he does. The avoidance plans are shot to pieces. His hair is longer and he looks absolutely gorgeous in his clean-cut way. Thankfully _he_ isn't off his suppressants. He holds out his hand for a handshake with a big smile. When Dick takes it he immediately covers their hands with his other one, making the grip more personal. “Maybella. Nice to see you in my class. Summer’s been good?”

“Why, Mr. Sloane, isn’t my immense weight gain a dead giveaway that it has?” Dick offers with a dry smirk.

Mike laughs with twinkling eyes. (Seriously, how was that funny?) “That’s the overstatement of the year. You look great!” He tilts his neck in a proper invitation to be scented but without letting go of Dick’s hand. The gesture is paired with a hint of insecurity so naturally, because Dick’s a masochist, he takes the invite and steps closer. Mike smells as gorgeous and wonderful as ever. He’s been marked by close family pretty thoroughly recently in what must be the pack bond, and he most definitely has had sex with Lucifer today judging by the lingering scents. A thought that wreaks havoc inside Dick and stirs up things he’d prefer to have unstirred. He can feel himself starting to get slick just picturing it. He lets the tip of his nose linger up by the ear gland, just barely touching while he breathes in and out until Mike gets goosebumps and start secreting. A few whispered breaths and he’s already secreting more than Jeff did during a full lovemaking-session. If Jeff was this sensitive Dick could have been mated and they could have worked out. Dick aches. “Fuck, you’re a tease,” Mike chuckles, slightly flustered.

Dick steps away from Mike, thinking Mike’s the real tease and he doesn’t even know it. Mike raises his eyebrows in question, again showing a hint of insecurity. “Oh, what’s the use?” Dick grumps and offers up his own neck for scenting. He wonders if Mike’s planning to ever let go of his hand, and if he does, if there’s some way Dick will get away with discreetly sniffing it all lesson without Michael figuring out how hopelessly hooked he is on Michael’s scent. Maybe if he leans his chin in his hand…? Then his brain stalls since Mike promptly takes the invitation and it’s really hard to concentrate with Mike's nose tickling his neck. Fucking Packrunners. They’re always insisting to smell what _isn’t there_. “Maybe you’d get more out of it if you tasted it,” Dick remarks dryly. He means it sarcastically but Michael takes it as permission and suddenly there's a warm mouth and a hotter tongue on his neck, laving up the secretion all the way up to his ear gland and how the fuck is he supposed to function properly when _Michael_ is doing _that_? If he does it again Dick’s going to have to hide a boner which is a lot more inconspicuous than getting slick. He can feel his traitorous cheeks heat up to reveal what his scent doesn't, heart jumping into overdrive. He quickly steps away from Mike and retrieves his hand with a little jerk since the fucker won’t let go. He watches Mike push his tongue out of his mouth a couple of times in a way that reminds of the submissive gesture but is paired with a clicking noise that means he's pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to get a better taste. “If you siphon me I'll knock your teeth out,” Dick tells him with a pleasant smirk, hating how hard he's blushing. 

“What? Oh! Oh, no. No, no, no. I wasn’t―! I would never―!” Mike has the decency to turn the same scarlet as Dick while waving his hands in front of him palms out in a disarming gesture, flustering chopped off sentences and laughing nervously. “Hey, are you going to sit here? Can I sit beside you?” Mike rambles and points to the seats beside them. 

“I don’t know, _can_ you?”

Michael laughs. “I mean, are you waiting for someone? Is this seat taken?”

Dick sits down and pats the seat beside him. Mike sits down as instructed and Dick says “It is _now_.”

Mike laughs as if he's just made a hilarious joke. It's not that funny yet Dick struggles not to purr. Mike’s laughter is like pleasant pearls rolling along his spine. It’s crossed his mind that Mike might be flirting with him. It’s preposterous, considering he’s a Packrunner and if he’s flirting he’s flirting a lot like a Prog. But when Mike grins at him with twinkling eyes it _feels_ like it. It makes him ache while he smiles back and bends his neck coyly while keeping eye contact for too long. Long enough for a thread of insecurity to lace itself into Mike’s scent and Mike’s gaze to flick between his mouth and eyes, looking from one eye to another searchingly. Mike draws breath as if to say something, then suddenly looks away, scenting the air and flaring his brilliant blue, too alike Peter’s. Dick follows his gaze and feels like he’s been dosed with a bucket of ice-water. Of course, Mike isn’t flirting. He has no scent to entice the fucker to do so. Mike teeths his canines and smiles brilliantly at the female Omega coming their way. Dick recognizes her. It's one of the hypocritical girls Crowley introduced him to last year. One of those set to wait for their truemate, but will jump at the chance to fuck a male Omega. 

“Hi, Sandra…” Mike says dreamily when she passes. Sandra doesn't even bother gracing him with a look. She just holds a hand up in a gesture of ‘stop’ towards him.

Even if Mike had been flirting with Dick he'd never be more than a ‘one-go cumdumpster’. And even _if_ Mike had been interested in more he's still Packrunning trash which means Dick would have to charm the whole pack and get all of their approval. He's learned his lesson by now. He doesn't even know how big the pack is. 10? 20? Hell, he doesn't even know Mike's last name! 

In a fit of petty jealousy he deep-purrs Sandra. 

She turns around with an exasperated sigh. “Mike, I've told you a million times― Oh. It's you. Hi, Dick.” She gives him a pretty smile and Dick can smell the sting of discontent from Michael.

“Hi, Sandra. What are your plans for the evening?”

“Oh. Nothing. Unless you’ve got a suggestion…?”

“You live in the Omega house, don’t you? How about I come over at 8 and we’ll see if we can figure out something to do together?” Dick says with lowered eyelids and a slick smile.

Sandra giggles, rosy-cheeked and with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “It’s a deal. See you then. Bye.” She walks away with a cutesy little wave and a smile to sit with her friends at the end of the row.

By now the smell of Mike’s jealousy stings sharply in the air, but when Dick turns back to look at him he only looks defeated. Dick almost regrets his action. “Oh, don’t be like that, dear.” He leans over and pats Mike on the thigh to console him. “She’s saving herself for her truemate, and you’re not the one.”

“And that’s you?” 

“Tssk. Hardly. But I’m an Omega so I don’t count.”

Mike frowns, the jealousy fading into annoyance. It’s quite amazing, when you think about it, how feelings can be smelled due to the ever-altering mix of hormones and chemicals the body produces, changing sometimes over a split second. “That’s bullshit.”

“Oh, I know, dear. But I don’t make the rules, I just play by them. ...Mostly.”

Mike crosses his arms in front of himself and sulks, reeking of disappointment.

Dick feels a bit bad. “Look, Sandra and her ilk, they don’t want to be one of your hump and dumps―”

“Hey, it’s not like that, okay?”

“No? You want to mate her?” If so, Dick’s been reading things all wrong and been a bigger asshole than he intended to. He just intended to be a little bit of an asshole.

“No. But I’m not like Luci. If I like someone once is not enough. I date. Sure, I date more than one O at a time if they’re okay with it. And I do a couple of Omega Runs a month to keep myself in shape. And if an O suffers badly from her Heat I’ll help her out by a polite knotting. But I don’t―. Aside from polite knottings and the Run, everyone I’ve been with _means_ something. And I really like Sandra.”

Dick smiles and withholds a growl. “But you have no designs on mating her?”

“No… Besides, Luci hates her scent,” Mike mutters put-upon.

“Ah. Yes, because the question was if _he_ wants to mate her,” Dick says dryly.

Mike makes a frustrated sound. “No, but you don't understand. In a pack―”

Dick huffs and interrupts him. “Don't presume I don't understand something just because I don't agree with it. I understand perfectly well that all of you have to be on board with a mateship even if only one or a few of you get mated to said person. And I'm well aware that the Main and Patriarch can veto even an existing mating bond.”

“Pfft. Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen,” Mike sniggers. 

Dick rolls his eyes and sits back in his seat properly, staring ahead. Peter’s mournful wail echoes in his head.

“I mean, it could happen. They have the right to. But no one in their right mind would break the heart of a pacķmember that way,” Mike concedes after a beat of Dick’s silence.

Dick turns towards him and leans on the armrest between them. “We should get mated. Lucifer would hardly be able to complain about my scent, now would he?” he suggest with lowered eyelids and his lips quirked in a sly smirk. 

Mike laughs and Dick hates both himself for letting his tongue say what his mind thinks, and Mike for laughing at him when he does. Still, he keeps his position, leaning partway over Mike’s lap with a smirk. “I’m not getting mated until all my brothers have presented. Remind me in a couple of years and I’ll think about it,” Mike says, still chuckling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. If you want your Omegas to do your job for you...” Dick enunciates while gesturing with his finger in a circular motion around his face, “ _this is not the droid you’re looking for._ ”

Mike throws his head back laughing and Dick hates that he loves how Mike seems to think everything he says is extremely funny in a non-mocking way. Mike’s eyes twinkle in delight as he grins at Dick. He gets these gorgeous crinkles around his eyes when he smiles that widely. Dick withholds a pining sigh. “You like Star Wars? Want to go see the next one with me when it premieres next week?”

“Ah. Because spending one month’s food budget on watching a movie I can see for free if I wait a year, is a longstanding dream of mine,” Dick says sarcastically.

Mike chuckles and looks at him searchingly. “You’re kidding, right? ... _Right_?”

Dick smiles wider and leans closer. He reaches out with the arm not leaning on the armrest and fiddles innocently with the top button in Mike’s pristine, baby-blue shirt. “Oh, you sweet, sheltered, rich-boy. You know, we have a name for people like you where I come from?” he says, batting his eyelashes coyly.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Dick leans even closer―close enough for their warm breaths to puff against skin―pulls up the corner of his mouth in a predatory, lopsided smirk that reveals that he’s doing a half-drop of his fangs, burrows his gaze intently into Mike’s, and flares. “ _Prey_ ,” he purrs, pushing out his claws to cut the button off with a flick of his finger. 

Mike’s chest heaves and in the span of a heartbeat he suddenly reeks of arousal. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes.

“If you two lovebirds in the back are done, I’m ready to start the lesson!” The professor’s annoyed voice makes Dick withdraw to his own seat and make an apologetic gesture.

“Fuck, you’re a tease,” Mike whispers annoyedly and adjusts his pants, boner visibly tenting them. “How am I supposed to concentrate like this? It’s not fair!”

Dick takes a deep breath of the lovely, _lovely_ scent of Mike’s arousal and thinks that for once, life is actually _fair._

* * *

Saying no to Mike is _hard_. 

The week after the first he comes to class reeking of excitement and holds up two movie tickets to the Star Wars premiere. “You and me?”

Dick shakes his head with a faint smile. He doesn’t need more pining.

Mike’s not discouraged. With a small flick of his thumb two tickets turn into four. “You, me, Luci and Crowley?”

Dick’s lips twitch in amusement but he keeps his silence.

Mike grins broadly at him and flicks his finger again, revealing two more tickets that had been hidden behind the rest. “You, me, Crowley, Luci, Chad and Brad?”

Dick can’t hold back a bemused and endeared chuckle. “Are you sure bringing both Luci and Crowley is a good idea?”

“Yes. Trust me.”

“You realise I’m not going to pay for that ticket, do you?”

“That means you’re coming?”

“Yes.”

Michael fistpumps and continues to ooze contentment for the rest of the class.

It turns out Crowley and Luci sometimes forget to hate each other. During the whole movie, they sit with their heads together trading sarcastic commentary about the movie, as if the darkness makes it okay to be friends. Dick hardly notices, caught between Brad in full Rut, and Mike, sharing a large bucket of popcorn with Mike. Every time he puts his hand in the popcorn bucket his hand brushes Mike’s, shooting jolts of electricity up his arms. He wonders if it really can be a coincidence that Mike takes popcorn at the same time as him _every time_. 

Later, when they've eaten all the popcorn Mike puts his arms over the backrest of both his and Lucifer’s seats. Dick can feel Mike's forearm brush his neck. At one point Dick turns his head to find Mike looking at him instead of the screen. Mike doesn't look away. Instead, his gaze travels over Dick's face, catching on his lips several times. Their eyes lock and hold _forever_ , so long Dick's pulse skyrockets and his mouth dries up. Dick licks his lips nervously. Mike leans closer, Dick swears he does. He swears there's a hint of insecurity in Mike's scent but it _could_ just be his own nerves messing with his mind and _fuck_ but Mike's gonna kiss him isn't he but he's a Primal not a Prog but he's looking at Dick's lips licking his own and isn't that the signs Dick missed when Jeff did them and he's _definitely_ leaning closer and― 

Dick's hit by Brad’s elbow in the ribs and jumps in fright when something on screen makes the audience howl, Brad included. “ _Ooooo!_ Bro! Did you see that?!” Brad says still staring at the screen.

Dick’s heart hammers furiously. When he glances to his side Mike’s staring at the screen, rubbing his palms against his thighs reeking of discontent and anxiety. Dick decides to believe Mike had been about to kiss him. Primal or not, if Dick could grow to like kissing and see it as a valid option even for casual hookups, so could Mike. But Dick can’t afford to be a casual hookup to any Packrunner he’s pining this badly for. Even if they’d end up dating for a while he’d end up left in the dust sooner or later and Dick’s had enough of painful rejections by Alphas ruled by other people’s whims. He has no leverage on them, unlike they on him with the strong bio-compulsion of their scents. Just ‘love’ is not enough. Peter had proven that. He can’t let anything happen between them or he’ll be too miserable when it ends.

He can feel that Mike looks back at him several times during the rest of the movie but this time he doesn’t let himself be lured in.

He finds that he loves watching movies like this, though, and vows that one day he too will be able to buy 6 movie tickets like nothing if he feels like bringing his friends.

* * *

Twice a week he eats lunch with Mike and his gang. Not because he really wants to or has a budget for it (okay, he can afford it, but doesn’t like to spend money unnecessarily), but because their lessons are right before lunch and Mike is so enthusiastically dragging him along until he finds himself sitting with him in the cafeteria with an―to him―expensive lunch. He discovers that Crowley and Luci _also_ eat lunch together. It seems like they do it just so they can compete in who can burn each other the worst, however, when Mike and Dick get going quoting plays or musicals it instead turns into a competition in who can roll their eyes the hardest or look the most suffering. Chad and Brad are also part of the lunch squad. Dick finds out they’ve both been invited to move to the Alpha house but declined since the Alpha house only allows Alphas and they refuse to leave their ‘main O-bro’. It’s rhetorics that keep Mike and Luci from pestering them about it. They said ‘main’ instead of ‘in-house’ and it makes a world of difference for Packrunning trash. Lucifer’s Fanclub sit with them more often as not, but their corner of the long table almost always looks the same. Dick between Mike and Crowley, Luci opposite Crowley so they can share disgusted looks either at each other, or at Dick and Mike being nerds. Then Chad and Brad sit opposite Mike and Dick. Dick always buys the cheapest option but often finds his plate’s content to be wordlessly traded or expanded by Mike. They trade until they end up with things they both like.

One time Luci has these tiny, adorable cabbage heads on his plate and Dick reaches over and spears one on his fork out of curiosity. Lucifer isn’t bothered any more than Mike is, but he does follow Dick’s fork with his gaze when Dick pops the delicious-looking vegetable into his mouth. He chews three times before his face scrunches up in a grimace and he opens his mouth to let the foul-tasting greenery fall onto his plate and land with a ‘splot’. His fangs drop on their own volition and he can’t stop the growl, feeling as if the thing had personally attacked him.

Lucifer bursts out laughing. He’s not the only one. By the time Dick reaches for his soda to get the taste out of his mouth everyone at their table is laughing at him. Luci reaches over the table and grabs the offending, half-chewed vegetable and pops it into his mouth without preamble, then moves his peach cobbler over to Dick with a big grin. “Not a Brussel sprout guy, huh?” he remarks looking both amused and charmed. 

“That was just foul and not meant for human consumption.”

“Says the guy who takes extra seaweed in their miso soup,” Luci remarks with a smirk. All in all, though, the peach cobbler Luci gave him was worth the experience.

* * *

Dick reuptakes his weekly health controls. Sebastian greets him with alarming affection and when they meet up afterwards to continue their deal the sex turns sweeter than ever before. For a moment Dick gets a glimpse of why anyone would want to mate the self-important asshole. Dick would have loathed the tenderness if he didn't need it as much as he needs to sleep wrapped around Crowley at night. He thinks Crowley might need their cuddling as much as he does, missing Balt. Crowley still refuses to knot him. Dick finds it very confusing. Since Balt's a guy it can't be that. Some nights Crowley brings home Omegas. These days Dick doesn't bother staying in the room when he does. Instead, he crosses the corridor to Brad and Chad. Only if they're not in he'll go back and suffer through the noise. But more often than not, he's gone to bed before Crowley's even home for the night. Instead, he gets up early before the campus has come alive to run the Omega Run. The first time he runs it after the summer he's appalled by how slow he is. It doesn't matter that he's still as fast as the fastest Alphas - he's not fast _er_ than them. Plus he's panting in exertion by the end of one run. It’s not acceptable. A summer of eating well and cozying up in front of the TV has murdered his stamina and speed. He gets up early several times a week to do the Run, reclaiming his former condition. Even after he’s made the Run on a to him acceptable time without getting exhausted he keeps it up at least once a week. He vows that no matter how rich he becomes he’ll never let himself get out of shape ever again.

Sandra. That’s a Pandora’s box that should have stayed closed. Despite the envy it generates to get to sleep with the Omegas that have vowed to wait, he can sense how much damage his self-esteem takes from doing it. Oh, it’s nice. He finds that he likes girls. And they’re fawning over him as much as others fawn over Lucifer. Plus, he’s figured out how to lure them to trade his ‘service’ for samples of their secretion. He simply claims he wants to use it as perfume, putting some on his throat to mess with Alpha’s heads. It starts with Sandra. He suggests it on impulse when they meet up, specifying that he wants to mess with Mike’s head. He spins his words in a way that makes the girls feel like they’re co-conspirators. Once he’d been with Sandra he starts getting approached by other girls. He keeps track of each of them before he says yes, finding out which Alphas like them, then writes down in a notebook who likes what scent, labelling each sample with a number. The thing that wears on his self-esteem is that he has to act like an Alpha for them, and, much worse, the words ‘I don’t count’ pounds inside his head every time. ‘I can do this because I don’t count.’ All while other Omegas get deep-purred and courted, he stands to watch from the sidelines. It’s a constant grating of rejection. That also circles around to Mike because at times Mike is both flirty and acting as if he’s courting, but then a prettily-scented Omega walks by and Mike is thoroughly distracted.

To this day, only one Alpha has ever deep-purred him without already having some form of established friendly relationship with him, and said Alpha refuses to knot him. It all amounts to the same - he doesn’t count.

Jeff’s letters both makes him want to cry and are the highlights of his week when they come. They’re long, up to ten pages. He describes his experiences vividly and honestly. He misses Dick, possibly more than Dick misses him, and he’s wildly fascinated by the pack he gets to study with. He’d never realised how much nuance is conveyed in the primal communication and it blows his mind. He says he now understands why Dick laughed his ass off when they watched Tarzan together, or why some Primals find it such an offensive movie. He sends a pic of himself with two of the Packrunners he’s made friends with, the three of them are flaring and smiling at the camera, fangs dropped. Dick knows from the letter that the pain it causes Jeff to drop full fangs is excruciating and the sweat on his forehead is caused by that. But Dick thinks he looks better than ever like that. He hides the pic in his drawer not to get stuck pining, looking at it. He always responds with equally long letters that are more honest than he is with anyone save Crowley. But Jeff has lost his right to full disclosure. Dick doesn't tell him any outright lies but he withholds a lot.

* * *

“Is that all you're going to eat?” Lucifer asks, scowling at him with his gorgeous red eyes. The guy keeps his flare almost constantly nowadays, albeit with low luminosity. It’s a technique just like being off his suppressants is. Usually, it works. Today it hadn’t, and he’s being a general pissbaby because Crowley beat him in a debate despite his added charisma. They’re up to 50/50 of who gets the best results these days.

Dick takes another bite of the apple he discreetly swiped from somebody's tray while he passed. Luci hasn't touched his own food yet. He's been scowling at Dick since they sat down. It's nothing new. He does that sometimes. Just sits quietly with his arms crossed over his chest balancing his chair on its hind legs and stares or scowls at someone for no discernible reason. “I forgot my wallet,” Dick answers and keeps chewing his stolen apple.

Lucifer throws up his hands in annoyance. “For the love of―!” He gets up and leaves the table, stomping away reeking of annoyance. 

Crowley leans closer. “You should have told me, love,” he whispers.

“I don’t borrow money,” Dick states flatly and shuts down the discussion by taking another big bite out of the apple.

Crowley looks mildly affronted and turns back to his own food reeking of discontent. Dick’s about to ask him why he got offended when a full food tray clatters down in front of him, startling him. Luci sits down on his own seat and starts to eat without a word.

Dick blinks down at the meal. “Thank you, dear. But… not to look a gift horse in the mouth…?”

“No friend of mine’s gonna sit by my table and starve,” Luci states, giving him a dark glare.

Crowley’s scent turns very pleased at that. Dick takes note that two of Luci’s followers also lack proper lunches further down the table. He wonders why he himself classifies as a friend when they don’t since Luci and he don’t talk much. But then Mike drapes an arm around his shoulder, asking him something, and he reminds himself that Packrunners don’t choose things like friends or mates by themselves.

Mike and Lucifer have an interesting technique. By now Dick knows they belong to the richest, most powerful people in school. He hasn’t bothered digging into why, but it doesn’t matter. Both of them will sometime rub their neck and then casually mark something. If Dick could, he’d do the same. That’s not the interesting thing, though, it’s how they sit. Both of them have a tendency to sit down and drape their arms along the backrest to both sides of them, then wait. If you want to sit in the seat beside them you automatically got yourself claimed and have to accept that since you sat yourself down under their arm, basically. Dick has no qualms about sitting down beside Mike like that. But that one time when the only free space is beside Luci or further down the table Dick’s not having any of it. He puts down his tray in front of the seat then straightens up to smile widely at Luci, teething his canines. Luci looks up when he doesn’t sit down, so Dick glances pointedly at Luci’s arm and back to Luci. Lucifer gives him a flat stare, a wordless ‘ _Yeah, so?_ ’

Dick smiles wider―a show of teeth―and slowly drops full fangs. Lucifer holds his stare, body language going ‘ _What you gonna do about it?_ ’ Dick growls. A deep, dark threat that doesn’t match his expression and posture but makes every Primal and several Conservatives in the vicinity react by either tensing up and pay rapt attention or hunch their shoulders, avert their faces and lick their lips submissively. If he’d translate what he’s saying to Jeff, he’d explain it as ‘ _I’m not going to kill you, just maim you a little._ ’ It’s a very real threat connected to territorial infringement, bearing notes of ‘if you back the fuck off we’ll be friends still’. Lucifer’s scent is suddenly a fuzzy jumble impossible to interpret. He holds Dick’s gaze another second to gauge if it’s a bluff, then he removes his arm from the chair slowly, keeping eye contact. Dick’s a little impressed by how Lucifer’s scent always turns into a sort of non-scent with key notes of ‘big, strong Alpha’ any time he’s frightened or threatened. Unlike Dick, who doesn’t have a scent to interpret, Luci has all at once and it amounts to the same result. Since Dick’s gotten to know him better he’s pretty sure that Luci is intimidated, not rebellious and defiant as his behaviour implies. He retracts his fangs, cuts off his growl with a content little ‘ _mrrt_ ’-sound and sits down. Everyone relaxes except Mike who’s reeking of anger and discontent. Dick looks at him only to see that he’s glaring daggers at his brother. After this incident, Luci always removes his arm if Dick looks at it.

Dick keeps dodging invites to party. He also has to dodge Luci and Mike with alarming frequency since their schedules intercept so much this year, putting them in the same area as him even when they don’t share class. That’s why he ends up getting a big surprise one day when he’s late for class. The corridors are empty and he can hear voices up ahead. 

“...situation is unstable. I’m not sure what this is going to mean for our deal in the future.” It’s a stranger’s deep voice, a male.

“But… he really killed his own _Main_? How the hell can anybody do something like that?” That’s Mike’s voice. Dick starts to catch their scents as he nears. There’s another corridor he can veer off into up ahead to avoid them.

“Isn’t that impossible? He must be completely deranged to do something like that.” Lucifer’s voice. 

“I don’t know. My informant is too low in the hierarchy to be sure, but rumour has it that she killed his kitlings or perhaps his mate. Bottom line is, the pack now has two Patriarchs, and the newest one is blaming us for what happened somehow.”

“No way. A Main would never kill a pack member’s kits.”  
“Can you even have two Patriarchs?”

Dick turns the corner of the corridor he’d opted to use to avoid them, and stops. Up ahead there’s an Alpha with his back turned, and a dark-skinned Juvie leaning a shoulder on the wall with his arms crossed. Dick can smell that the Juvie will present as an Alpha in a couple of months, and that he’s a younger sibling of Mike and Luci. The Alpha is unrelated.

The Juvie refuses to look at the Alpha while the Alpha has blown himself up, sneering at the Juvie. The body language alone would have been enough to tick Dick off, but then he hears what they’re saying.

“Please, would you just kindly fuck off,” the Juvie says in a fed-up, yet polite voice. There are tendrils of fear in his scent, barely covered by general unhappiness.

The Alpha laughs. “Don’t think so, you piece of Packrunning trash. You’re pathetic, you know that? A fucking noseblind _sniffler_. Can’t believe they even let you live. You snifflers are all ruled by instinct, nothing more than animals. And you know what triggers instinct? _Scent_. You might as well kill yourself. You’re no good to nobody of your kind. They should have hurled you on the Pyre as soon as you were born. Saved both you and them the suffering. You’re nothing but a burden,” the Alpha taunts.

_Sniffler._

That’s one of the words Jeff had hurled at Dick that one time when he crossed the line. A Progressive slur for Primal. Dick drops fangs and shapes every tooth in his mouth to sharp points. He lets his claws extend, literally seeing red.

“You’re entitled to your opinions. I’ve heard you speak them. Please, will you move on now? You’ve made your point,” the Juvie says patiently. He’s not a small Juvie. His body is nearing its adult form. But the Alpha taunting him is big. He reminds Dick of Tarrell, his constant bully in the slums, always making a target of Dick because of their difference in size. This guy obviously doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘Packrunner’ or he wouldn’t have singled the Juvie out. All the Juvie needs to do is make the distress call and the Alpha is toast. Dick wonders why he doesn’t?

_Because he’s used to bullying and tired of being a burden,_ Dick’s mind supplies.

Dick withholds a growl and instead stalks silently towards the Alpha’s back, going into full hunting predator mode.

The Alpha ignores the Juvie’s plea with a sneered smirk. “Useless piece of shit. Somebody should do the world a favour and just beat the crap out of you. You’re so pathetic you wouldn’t even be able to smell them coming,” he mocks and takes a menacing step forward.

By then Dick’s almost there, takes one quick stride to pop up just by the side of the Alpha’s face and _roars_.

The Alpha shrieks in fear, his whole face lit red by the strong sheen of Dick’s flare. Dick raises a hand ready to swipe, claws gleaming in the flare. The guy curls away in terror and pees, tears springing up in his eyes. He stumbles backwards, slips in his own pee and falls, one hand landing in the puddle before he scrambles up and runs away.

Dick’s whole head hurts and he can feel that his fangs have dropped longer than ever before. He lets all his teeth take their original shape with a little huff of relief, makes his flare go down to a polite red that doesn’t glow, and retracts his claws. “Oh dear. That guy was completely useless. It’s as if he couldn’t smell me coming,” Dick remarks dryly and winks at the Juvie with a fraction of a smirk. 

The Juvie licks his lips submissively at the same time as he peers curiously at Dick, fear gone and unhappiness receding somewhat. 

“A little advice from somebody who’s also born with a handicap,” Dick goes on, “anything can be bent to an advantage. Trust me, I’m―”

“ _DAAYUM!_ Man, that was _awesome_!” Another Juvenile voice interrupts, making Dick turn to see a short Juvie with floppy caramel coloured hair come bounding with enthusiastic skips. “Was gonna get uncle but then I heard the roar and turned back and you were like, ‘ _wroaaar_ ’, and he was like ‘ _eeeek!_ and holy fucking shit he peed himself and _woah_ , it really stinks here!” The Juvie babbles, making impersonating gestures of what he’s witnessed, ending it by holding his nose when he comes near. The older Juvie’s scent changes a lot when his little brother shows up. Traces of anxiety vanish and most of the unhappiness disappears and is traded for contentment.

“See? You’re one up on the rest of us already,” Dick points out to the noseblind Juvie, getting a hesitant half-smile in response. 

“You can say _that_ again,” the younger one remarks in disgust, then suddenly stops, eyes going wide and alarmed staring at Dick. “Oh no! What’s wrong with you?!”

Dick blinks. “Dear me, aren’t you a polite little thing,” he says sarcastically.

“ _Gabe_ ,” the older Juvie chastises.

Gabe turns to his older brother. “No, but you don’t get it, Raff! He just lost someone! Something terrible happened to him!”

‘Raff’ looks at Dick over his little brother’s head, some recognition sparking in his eyes and a slow smile spreading on his dark face. “No. He was born that way,” he states with confidence.

Dick finds himself smiling broadly, nodding in confirmation and for a moment their gazes are locked in mutual understanding. 

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Raphael, trust me. I can smell it.”

Raphael looks down at his little brother and deadpans “Me too.”

Dick bursts out laughing. It’s the best joke he’s ever heard about his scentlessness and it proves Raphael is one sharp fucker putting two and two together. A noseblind smelling a scentless. It’s brilliant! The joke flies right over Gabe’s head as he looks dubiously between his sniggering older brother and laughing Dick. Then he sniffs the air and his scent gets excited again. He turns and bounds down the corridor from where Dick came. “Uncle! Uncle! Guess what?”

Dick ignores the little one disappearing around the corner, instead offering his hand to shake. “Hi. I’m Dick,” he introduces.

“Raphael.” Raphael shakes his hand, smile firmly in place.

“As I was saying before the energizer bunny interrupted, I don’t have a scent of my own and frequently utilize other people’s scent to manipulate people. You, despite the other drawbacks, would be completely immune to my viles. Whatever shit life throws at you, there are ways to gain advantages from it. That shitheads like that one,” Dick gestures with his head in the direction the bully had fled, “doesn’t realise it, is also an advantage. It still sucks when assholes make you a target for it―been there―but it’s not all bad.”

Raphael relaxes and smiles. “Thanks. Sorry about my little brother. I can with surety say that he meant no malice.”

“I didn’t think he did. He’s quite… exuberant, isn’t he?”

Raphael chuckles with a warm smile. “Exhausting is the word you’re looking for,” he answers, but there’s nothing but affection in how he says it. Dick decides he likes Raphael.

“There he is! You shoulda seen! He was like ‘ _Wrrooaaarrr!_ ’ and the guy peed himself! He slipped in his own pee before he ran away and it was _glorious_!” Gabe comes skipping in front of another Alpha. A tall, older man, maybe in his fifties. He’s got the same general build as Luci, but with more comfort-weight. His walk is the perfect mix between the predator-swagger that’d fly in the slums, and the poised dignity of the very rich. Blond hair, white at the temples, hazel green eyes, three-piece tailored suit displaying the gold chain of a pocket watch. And when he comes close enough for Dick to smell― _perfection_. Dick had thought Lucifer had the most amazing scent ever. Boy, had he been wrong! He had likened Mike and Luci’s scents to a pink colour that seemed the same but if held up towards the light you’d see that Mike’s pink had a peach base and Luci’s had a purple. Well, this guy―while he was unmistakenly related to them―smelled like reddish purple, continuing the colour comparison.

Dick’s numbstruck. 

The man walks up to Dick with a friendly smile. “I heard you helped my nephew get rid of some annoyance?”

Dick smiles coyly. “Oh, you know. You teeth a little and Progs flee in fright.”

Raff sniggers and Gabe sputters. “That’s _not_ how it happened!”

The older man smiles down at Dick, almost making him purr just by looking at him. He’s got a scar from the temple down to his jaw, narrowly missing the eye. Dick’s weak-kneed, every limb filled with flutters and jelly. His wish to impress like an idiot shoots through the roof. “They’re a little sensitive, aren’t they?” the man agrees.

“Certainly.” Dick looks at the puddle on the floor with a troubled expression. “Although, last time _that_ happened, I and my best friend got in significant trouble for it.”

“Did you now…?” The Alpha’s eyes spark with interest. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen this time. I don’t tolerate anyone messing with my family. He’ll be dealt with. Say, you wouldn’t by happenstance be Dick Roman…?”

Dick looks back at the Alpha with a surprised smile. “I would, indeed,” he agrees.

The Alpha’s scent turns very pleased and this time Dick is truly struggling to withhold his purr. “Always a pleasure to meet a friend of the family. Mikey has spoken very highly of you,” the Alpha says, then tilts his head to offer up his neck in introduction.

Dick leans in to scent him. He smells so wonderful Dick gets light-headed, purring without thought. The Alpha turns his head enough to scent him back. Dick’s heart flutters and he lets out a pathetic, soft little gasp. His ear glands start secreting, silky oil sticking to the Alpha’s nose-tip. Then the Alpha steps away, flaring and teething his canines. He’s flaring the same red colour as Dick’s own. Dick’s not really sure how to breathe.

“My condolences for your loss,” the Alpha offers.

Dick smiles, his own flare getting stronger. “Thank you, but it’s not what you think. I was born this way.”

The Alpha arches an eyebrow with an interested twinkle in his eyes. Then, he _deep-purrs_.

Dick’s gone. Down for the count. Hopelessly smitten like never before. Not only is he experiencing the greatest bio-compulsion ever, but he’s being spontaneously deep-purred by a stranger and it’s wreaking havoc inside of him. He’s completely under the Alpha’s thumb, heart thump-thump-thumping, slick and secretion flowing and butterflies going wild. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing by how hot he feels.

“ _Uuuncle_! Don’t flirt with friends of our brothers! It’s embarrassing!” Gabe protests.

“Oh, shush, dear,” Dick tells him without looking away from the gorgeous red eyes locked on him. “When you present you’ll understand that as a Packrunner friends of the family are who you _should_ be flirting with. Your uncle is welcome to flirt as much as he likes, as long as he understands that he’ll have to earn the right if he wants more than just flirting.”

The Alpha smiles wider at that, impressive fangs elongating. “You’re a Packrunner, sweetheart?”

“I am not. But I could convert for the right incentive,” Dick purrs. The two Juvies watching them might as well not exist.

“Duly noted,” the Alpha says, flare going extra intense for a beat.

“So… I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage here, Alpha. Do you have a name, or should I simply call you ‘uncle’?”

The Alpha chuckles darkly. “You may call me whatever you like, pet. I hold no bars.”

Yep. Completely down for the count. Dick bites his lower lip over a smile and growls a friendly challenge. The Alpha’s scent gets aroused and Dick’s _gone, gone, gone_ on him.

“ _Uncle_ ,” Raphael says, a chastising edge to his voice.

The Alpha’s eyes leave Dick for a beat to exchange a glance with Raff, then return to Dick again. “Forgive me. The youth points out I’m being rude.” He holds out his hand for a shake and Dick immediately takes it―any excuse to get to touch. “My name is Aiden. Aiden Williams, Patriarch of the William’s pack,” the Alpha says with a winning smile.

.

.

.

.

It feels like it takes forever before Dick’s brain to come online again and his world rights itself. It’s like getting a bucket of ice water thrown over him but being so hot it just evaporates into steam. 

This man is the reason Henry, Toivo, and the others are dead.

This man is the reason Peter attacked them.

This man.

Somehow, forever must not have passed while Dick was shocked numb. Aiden’s still looking at him appreciatively, still deep-purring. He shows no sign of having noticed Dick’s brain-lapse. “Aiden… I’ve heard about you. It was suggested that I’d bear another Patriarch’s kits so they could compete with you about whom could produce the most red-eyed offspring.”

Aiden chuckles again. “Technically, I haven’t produced any offspring at all. That’s all my brother’s doing. But with the right incentive I might feel compelled to give it a go,” he says and gives Dick a once-over before giving him a cheeky wink and a playful smirk.

Dick’s body is acting on auto-pilot. He makes a sound in his breastbone tract that he’s never heard before. It’s a mix of a threat and delight which shouldn’t make sense but still does. He reaches out to adjust Aiden’s tie, making it a tad bit too tight. The scent of Aiden’s arousal increases. “Duly noted,” Dick says with a challenging twinkle in his eyes and a lopsided smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, dear, but I’m afraid I must go. I’m late for class and as pleasant as it's been meeting you,” he looks around briefly to catch the gaze of both Juvies adding “meeting _all_ of you,” before turning back to Aiden, “my studies are important to me. Maybe we'll meet again…?” 

He bends his neck and peers up through his lashes coquettishly, but his gaze and smirk might be broadcasting ‘Fight me!’ more than anything.

“It would please me greatly if we do, kitling,” Aiden purrs.

Dick smiles, gives the three of them one last nod, then turns and walks away. Behind him he can hear Aiden talk to the Juvies. “Give me a moment. This is important.” Then… he follows Dick. He follows deep-purring like his nephews have never done, like nobody but Crowley ever does and it’s making Dick ache so bad. He aches, because images of his foot in the puddle of Toivo’s blood keeps flashing in his head, the sound of Peter’s mournful wail playing a backdrop. This man―who smells like heaven personified, who dresses and has an air like he belongs on the top shelf Dick’s climbing towards, but who has the dangerous gaze of a slum-predator―is ultimately responsible for Dick’s worst heartbreaks. How can he give into that without betraying his Europeans’ memory? He can’t. He can’t, any more than he could be with Peter after what happened. But unlike Mike and Luci, this man has done _everything right_. The mix of refinement and ferality in his flirting, the instant respect, offering his neck, assuring Dick will be safe from repercussions from the incident, deep-purring… How can he say no to that? He can’t. He _can’t_.

Dick has no intention of going to class now. He wants to go to his room and get the oncoming mental breakdown over with so he can get his ducks in a row. Wait for Crowley to get back and hope he’s up for some deep down and personal conversation. He stops and turns around. “I appreciate your efforts, Mr. Williams, but I really need to be on my way,” he says, hiding his inner turmoil behind a smile.

“Naturally, Mr. Roman. But before you go, allow me to…” He takes out the pristine, red handkerchief peeking out from the breast pocket of his waistcoat and dries the secretion of his neck from his neck with it, then unclasps the chain of his pocket watch and carefully wraps the watch in the handkerchief. He steps closer and takes Dick’s hand, putting the wrapped clock in his palm and folding his fingers over it. “A gift. For taking time out of your day to pay attention to me and mine.” He bows low over Dick’s hand while keeping eye-contact, turns Dick’s hand over and places a kiss on the back of it. “Until next time, good day to you, Mr. Roman.” With one last wink, Aiden turns and leaves.

Dick’s left standing. Feeling like Icarus. Flying too high and hurtling towards the ground breakneck speed all at once…

* * *


	15. Death Throes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's doing really well when life throws him some curveballs. Lucky for him, he's made friends. And they loyalty he's shown them pays out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know why you had to wait so long for this chapter? Because I couldn't figure out how to fit all I wanted to happen into it without making it a mastodont. But, luckily I've got readers to tell me they don't mind if 15 chapters turn 16 so the writer's semi-block that hit me was resolved by adding one more chapter instead. Scenes are so short in my head, but when writing them down they get so long just by being described with words so you see them as they play out too. :P

### Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

“`No time like the present.`”  
`- Aiden Matthew Williams -`

Dick sighs and runs his fingers over the inscription inside the lid of the pocket watch for the millionth time. The handkerchief is tied around his neck still smelling strongly of Aiden. Dick's a masochist. 

The door opens and Crowley gets in. “I bloody hate my so-called family. Abby especially. I'm reserving a special place in hell for her.” He's been in the UK for a week during the winter break.

“Want me to kill her for you? You'd get all of the heritage when they die with her gone,” Dick suggests without looking away from the watch.

Crowley stops to stare at him for a moment. “You'd bloody well do it too,” he then mutters. 

“Of course. Just lure her over here.”

Crowley makes a disgusted sound. “Thanks, but no. I'd rather she stays on her side of the pond. I just hate going home.”

Dick hums. “Then don't. Stay here with me. If we start looking now we might find an apartment in a good place by summer. You've got money stashed and I still have some surplus. We'll split rent and food 50/50. I have a job waiting for me if I want and if I'm a bit smarter than last year and send applications in advance I might be able to get something with even better pay.”

“You have a job?”

“What do you think I've been doing while you've been gone? I work at a tourist center. Plus, I told my boss that since it's a holiday I'd only work if he increased my pay. He doubled it without batting an eyelash which means I've underestimated my worth. I think I can renegotiate my pay for the summer. Though, I don't think I can get double for normal work hours. However, I have learned a fifth language since he hired me so it's only fair.”

“A _fifth_ language?”

“Counting English,” Dick says dismissively. 

“Bloody hell. What languages?”

“Finnish, German, Spanish, and French. Although, I only know how to write French. And Finnish grammar is a mess so I'm not very good at it.”

“Bollocks. You need to let your boyfriends know this, darling. Most of us nobs know _one_ other language.”

Dick hums distractedly and runs his fingers over the inscription again. “I don't have boyfriends.”

“Sure you do, love. The Tweedle Bros, George, Mr. Wednesday, Mike, and, supposedly, me. But I don't have the power to get you the job you want. I don't know about the Wednesday wanker but the rest of them can all hook you up. Just choose what field you want to work in. Medicine? Steel? Media? Or―since you got your foot in with the Packrunning lot―a bit of everything.”

Today Dick knows a lot about the Williamses. They’re truly the monsters the monsters tell scary stories about. Why? Because they’re both into politics and business. If a law inconveniences them, they get it changed. Like the monopoly law that prohibited a company from buying up all of their competitors or holding more than 80% of the market (unless the company had less than 10 employees or the market was newer than two years). The moment the Williams Enterprises bumped into that ceiling they started manipulating, bribing and threatening until the law was changed. The Williams pack isn’t a big pack - decimated in wars just like many other packs as they were. But they are influential. That’s how they can keep others, like the Hales, in check. Who needs a huge pack when you can pull a couple of strings and have all of the police do your bidding? There are several packs like this spread over the country which is the reason that Packrunners keep their rights in ways they can’t in other places of the world despite the prejudice. Henry had mentioned that.

Dick’s _pining_. Aiden had the predatory swagger because he’d been to war. He and his brother Marlon had been guerrilla fighters in the mountains. They were both lethal in the way that would make them forces to be reckoned with even if they for some reason ended up in the slums. How does he know this? Apparently, Gabe’s been retelling his intervention of Raff’s bullying to Mike and Luci. Last time he told the story Dick had ninja swords. The time before that he’d thundered in on a war steed, the time before that he’d shot bolts of lightning through his eyes. Raff had corrected the details, of course (except he hadn’t mentioned Dick’s flare colour). Bottom line is that even Luci had started giving him genuinely friendly smiles and both had answered Dick’s curious questions.

“I don’t want anything to do with the Williams pack,” Dick tells Crowley. Lies. All lies. One day he might actually believe himself too.

Crowley stops unpacking to roll his eyes. He stares flatly at Dick for a moment, when he gets no reaction he does another―this time exaggerated full-body―eye roll. “Darling, you know what you are?” he asks and walks up to Dick where he's sitting on his bed leaned against the wall. He snatches the watch from Dick's hands ignoring Dick's growled response to it, and carefully places it on the desk. Then he reaches out and unties the handkerchief. “You, my love, are your own worst enemy.” He takes the watch from the desk and carefully wraps it in the handkerchief, then puts it into the Ziploc bag Dick keeps it in. “It's time to choose. What's more important - dwelling on the past or reaching top shelf?” He climbs onto the bed and settles between Dick's legs. “Why do you think I put up with that self-obsessed, red-eyed goblin?”

Dick stops growling. “Because you're enjoying the competition. Because you two bring out the best in each other skill-wise. Because you are mutually admiring each other. Because you secretly love his constant attention. Because you have the same humour and disdain for the stupid. Because when you team up you're practically invincible. Do I need to go on? Quite frankly, it would be endearing seeing how possessive and protective you are of each other if it wasn't so tiresome to see you pretend not to get along.”

“Oh shush. My point is that if you can get a foot in with the Williams family, you've got it made. But at this point, they're trying to get in and you're struggling to keep the door shut. It's time to pick a bloody side!”

Dick whines and pulls Crowley in for a forced snuggle. It makes for an amusing mix of annoyance and happy contentment in Crowley's scent. 

Crowley sighs into Dick's chest. “Darling, what I'm saying is, your pack is dead,” he states bluntly muffled by Dick's shirt. “Aiden Williams might have set up the deal that led to their deaths, but he didn't kill them. He didn't make the choice to be an arms dealer nor did he lead the attack. Peter killed your mates. Your mates sold guns. They were soldiers and aware of the dangers yet chose not to warn you. You're laying blame at the feet of people that currently hold you under their protection―”

“They _do not_.”

Crowley heaves himself up to rub his temple against Dick's neck. “Don't pretend you're stupid. Of course they do. I saw you with the Juvies when they arrived for a visit before the holidays. I must commend you. I'd never thought to go for the little twats to nestle my way in.”

“They're not twats.”

“The little one tied a band of firecrackers to my shoelaces!”

Dick sniggers. “If you didn’t want him to, you shouldn't have laughed when he did it to Luci.”

Dick had been assaulted by a small ball of excitement on the campus grounds while walking between two buildings. Gabe had decided that Dick was his own private jungle gym and/or mode of transportation. Dick could have disliked having a little imp hanging around his neck then climbing onto his back for a piggy-back ride, but decided he didn’t. Raphael had been a lot more restrictive in his greeting, but had smelled just as excited as his little brother. He’d simply offered his hand for a shake then leaned in with uncertainty, scent exploding with anxiety, to give Dick’s cheek a quick temple rub. He was tense as if he expected it to backfire and something within Dick just died a little, both in a warm fuzzy way and heart breaking for the Juvie at the same time. Naturally, he returned the rub, which made the anxiety Raff felt dissipate into happiness. Dick couldn’t help being amused by the joke in the interaction. Raff following customs he couldn’t understand and himself understanding them, but not able to leave the marks. Dick likes the Juvies. Raff especially. Quiet, serious and dignified, but with a hidden impish side as big as Gabe’s. Plus, Dick can’t help feeling a sort of kinship with the guy.

“Why are you so eager for me to cosy up to them anyway? You proclaim to hate them,” Dick asks. Crowley will mutter about them, but Dick’s pretty certain he genuinely likes Mike at least.

“Because if I could choose to work for any company, it’d be theirs. If you make the waves I can ride them to the job I want.”

That’s honest enough. Dick nuzzles Crowley’s hair. “Please, dear, when you gamble in life, don’t use my heart as your bet.”

“Darling, your heart is already locked on target with or without me. I merely don’t want to see you throw away your shot.”

“... _I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy and hungry, and I’m not throwing away my shot!..._ ” Dick sings teasingly. 

Crowley makes a suffering noise. Apparently, musicals are as painful to listen to for Crowley as British punk is for Dick. Who knew, huh? “Spare me that tosh, will you?” Crowley complains and struggles to sit up again, taking his pack of cigs out of his pocket. “Fag?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Dick asks Sebastian for suppressants. Unlike other Alphas he's slept with Sebastian doesn't say no ‘because I like your Heat’ or bullshit like that. “I don't know, kitling… I could, but considering your condition it might be a bad idea,” Sebastian answers with a concerned wrinkle between his thick, perfect brows. Dick smiles sweetly, but his displeasure about being turned down yet again must have shown anyway. Sebastian runs a hand through his black hair, hesitates, then says “How about I make a formal application to do a study? You'd have to come by once a day so I can take your vitals and you’d have to answer questions about your general health. But if I word the application the right way we can get the university to fund it and I can use all the data to write my thesis.”

“That seems a bit excessive.” Of course the bastard would find a way to benefit from it. But it’s not a no so Dick doesn’t mind too much.

“Perhaps. But about one in 10 000 react negatively to suppressants and for one in a million the reaction is so serious they could die. Usually, the first sign of the reaction is a change in the scent. Since you don't have that and there's virtually no research about suppressants in combination with scentlessness…” Sebastian shrugs apologetically.

Dick agrees and Sebastian gets a green light for the project since Montgomery is equally interested in the outcome. It's a good thing. Dick feels a bit gloomy and listless once he starts taking them but puts it down to the general Williams debacle, then 8 days in he zones out during a lesson and forgets to breathe until Mike touches him with a concerned frown asking if he's alright. Dick gets up and leaves, running for the medical wing as soon he's out of the classroom. His body’s shutting down and his values―that had been fine this morning―have gone through the roof. Luckily both Montgomery and Sebastian drop what they’re doing to help him. He gets two shots of who knows what, is hooked up to a number of electrodes and a drip, and Sebastian graciously ‘volunteers’ to knot him while letting him siphon. When Montgomery questions it, ‘Aren’t you monogamously mated?’ Sebastian gives a spiel about his mate having to accept it because life is at stake, and she chose to mate somebody in the medical profession, yadda yadda. Dick has trouble to keep from laughing. Although, it’s only noted that he’s knotted without a condom by a healthy male on suppressants in the study papers, Sebastian still lets Montgomery and several nurses witness the polite knotting/siphoning. Dick appreciates the magnitude of that gesture. It takes a couple of hours before his carefully monitored values go back to normal. It’s the first time someone scentless’ reaction to suppressants have been recorded and it puts a major star in the records of both Sebastian and Dr. Montgomery. Dick, needless to say, doesn’t continue taking them. And he’s secretly thankful that he’s previously had gotten no when he’s asked for them. He shivers to think of what could have happened if Peter had said yes then left him to take them while their bond faded.

* * *

Luci’s doing that thing where he’s scowling quietly at Dick for no reason while ignoring his food. Dick’s ignoring _him_ , content to sing fragments of musicals with Mike between bites of his (and Mike’s) lunch. 

Luci huffs, leans over the table and slaps Dick lightly on the arm to get his attention. “Alright, I give up. This year I've had no less than six people say you and me should have kits, but when I ask them why, they just snigger at me and wander off. I’ve been trying to figure out why. Is it your attitude? Your bone structure? If so, I don’t see it.”

Dick leans back in his chair with a smirk. Chad, Brad, and Mike snigger while Crowley keeps himself to a little smirk. They’re sitting at a table with only six seats for once. Dick prefers it like this. He loathes Luci’s fan club.

“Oh, _come on_. Just tell me! I’m beginning to feel stupid over here,” Luci whines.

“Reality finally catching up, huh?” Dick remarks, getting a dark glower from Luci.

“Hey…” Mike’s hand on his thigh gets his attention. He’s frowning in concern. “Why are you always so mean to Luci?”

Dick throws a thoughtful look at Luci, then at Crowley, weighing his options. He decides to go for a version of the truth. “Crowley is my best friend and I love him dearly. Luci, despite knowing the impact such thing would have, made a very cruel joke last year, implying Crowley’s mate would die and that that would be funny. I don’t like seeing my friends be hurt, hence I’m being petty about it,” he answers, holding Lucifer’s gaze.

“Hey! I apologised to you for that!” Luci protests, missing what Dick was trying to do by choosing his words like he did.

Mike frowns more deeply and so does Brad. “Bro. Why would you apologise to our O-bro if you insulted Crowley?” Brad asks.

“Because―” Luci starts, then catches himself, realising the blunder before it crosses his lips that the joke had been about Dick.

“Because he’s a Packrunner and I’m the _Main_ O-bro of Crowley’s dorm wing, according to you,” Dick saves him by saying. He’s 100% certain Chad and Brad would be enraged if they understood that the joke had been about Dick’s death, and lately they’d been acting more and more like Packrunners without even realising it, which might take the joke from a thoughtless slip of the tongue to an unforgivable offense against one of theirs. It’d get violent fast and ruin Crowley’s chance to get the job he wants. He directs himself to Chad and Brad. “I’ve had dealings with Packrunners in the past. They see their pack as being one, and as such it makes sense for Lucifer to direct his apology to the person he thinks you see as your kingpin too. Isn’t that right, Luci?”

Luci gives him a grateful look. “Yes, that’s it. I sometimes forget that you don’t work like us,” he lies. Then he looks at Crowley, looking both sulking and remorseful at the same time. “I don’t wish for your mate to die if you find one, and I would _not_ think it funny. I’m sorry I made that joke. I was…” He takes a deep breath and looks glum. “I was mad at you for making a fool out of me all the time back then,” he admits grudgingly.

“Water under the bridge,” Crowley tells him with a dismissive gesture smelling pleased. 

Luci and Crowley share a prolonged look, something passing between them, maybe both gauging how serious the other one is about apologising and forgiving and both coming to a satisfactory conclusion. Then Luci frowns and looks back at Dick with an annoyed frown. “That still doesn’t explain why everyone thinks we should make kitlings,” he says.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe because I have such pretty eyes?” Dick suggests and bats his eyes coquettishly at him, pointedly _not_ flaring. Nobody’s told Luci about Dick’s red flare yet.

Luci throws his hands up in frustration. “Fuck sake! Why won’t anyone tell me the real reason?” he complains.

All of them laugh. It’s doubly funny since Dick just did.

Crowley’s very pleased with Dick when they’re back in their room that evening. He’s smart enough to understand what the consequences would have been if Dick hadn’t lied.

* * *

Sebastian waylays Dick before his checkup, just grabs his arm and pulls him into a room. Dick would get pissed except Sebastian stinks of anxiety, pushes him against the door, grabs his cheeks and _kisses him_. A real, Prog-kiss with tongue and fucking _feelings_. The only time he'd done that before was when Dick panicked about the forced knotting charges. Something is seriously wrong for Sebastian to seek such intimacy. Dick closes his eyes and reciprocates, pulling Sebastian closer. He still thinks the guy’s an asshole, but these days he thinks of Sebastian as _his_ asshole.

Sebastian finally pulls away, a little out of breath with eyes full of worry. He takes a business card from his pocket and shows it to Dick. “This is my cell phone number and my home number. Whatever happens, you can still reach me and we can continue our deal, alright, kitling?” he says and puts the card in Dick's breast pocket.

“What's going on?”

Sebastian grimaces. “You're in real trouble this time. Montgomery is on the board and I overheard… You remember that bitch whose family you destroyed? She's made new accusations towards you and the board is taking it seriously. She said you faked your credentials to get in. If you're proven guilty you'll not only be kicked out, but you'll have to pay them back all the money they've spent on your scholarship. You might go to jail too if they decide to press charges.”

Dick smirks sardonically. “And you think I committed fraud to get in here?” His insides are screaming in panic.

Sebastian hesitates before answering, then lowers his voice. “Don't take this the wrong way, but it wouldn't surprise me. You’re like me, kitling. You’d stop at nothing to get your will.”

Dick sincerely hopes he’s nothing like Sebastian. “So you don't think I've gone to school?” he asks faking disgusted affront. 

“Of course you did, sweetheart. But they're launching an investigation so you're gonna have to prove it and there's something wrong with your application from what I overheard,” he says soothingly, rubbing Dick’s upper arms but the anxiety in his scent spikes, belying any comfort. Dick’s not sure if it’s because of genuine care or if it’s because he’s a golden ticket for Sebastian’s career as long as he has the monopoly on studying Dick. But then Sebastian leans in to tongue-kiss him again so it’s probably a bit of both. Conservatives _definitely_ don’t show this level of intimacy otherwise.

Dick pulls him in for a hug and pets his hair. “Don’t worry, dear. My ass is covered.”

* * *

“ **I’M FUCKED!** ” Dick rams his fist into the wall then leans his forehead against it, trying not to hyperventilate. “How the _hell_ am I going to squirrel myself out of this one, Crowley? I'll have to change my name and move to another city to start over. I’ll have to leave you and the guys. I’m _not_ sticking around to let them arrest me. _Oh no_! I’m gonna have to grow a beard or they’ll recognise me!” Dick flops around to press his back against the wall and slide down to sit on the floor with a miserable chirping sound.

Crowley blows out smoke upwards through the corner of his mouth and sniggers. “I love how you place growing a beard right up there with going to jail and being indebted for life,” Crowley says sarcastically and hands Dick his half-smoked cigarette.

“Being clean-shaven is a sign of prosperity and access to proper hygiene care. You rich folks don’t get it. You choose your facial hair as you seem fit, but where I come from you can see the level of prosperity of adult men based off their faci―” Dick scowls in annoyance and waves his hand. “That’s not the point. I don’t want to have to change the way I look and go into hiding. I _don’t_ want to have to leave the people I’ve grown to love. We were supposed to stick together you and me, then work for the Williams Enterprises together! And now?” Dick whimpers and takes three stressed drags on the cig.

Crowley’s scent turns into a complete jumble. “That was your goal?”

Dick pushes out the smoke in a harsh downward puff and looks up a Crowley. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? That’s what you said? _Wasn’t it_?”

Crowley stares at him, expression devoid of any tells. He taps out a new cig from his pack and lights it, takes a drag and lets out smoke slowly before he answers. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with them?”

“I’ll get over myself. Mike going to Aiden on our behalf was a big part of keeping you out of jail as well as extracting revenge. That’s something they did for me, knowing me. Having my mates slaughtered happened before they were aware of my existence. Do you think they’d been open to negotiating if I’d known them before it happened?” He looks up at Crowley with eyes begging for him to say yes.

“Negotiating is what they do, love,” Crowley agrees neutrally. 

Dick takes a drag on his cigarette. His hand is shaking. “There you have it. Since it's impossible to prove otherwise, I'm trying to make myself believe that if I'd spoken to them beforehand, my mates would have been alive today. Peter, on the other hand, killed Toivo. I might be able to forgive him that. Maybe I already have. But I can't forget it. The Hales have the whole slum under their control, having been a terror for me to avoid. They fear the Williams. It makes sense to hitch my wagon to the Williams pack if I look beyond my feelings. Besides, they all smell so fucking good! Once I get mated the pining won't be so bad and their scents will make for a pleasant working environ― _WHY ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS?!_ It's never going to happen now! I need to get out of dodge before the investigation is finished. I might get away with missing paperwork, but there are students here who have gone to the same schools as me, and it’ll be impossible for all of them not to remember me. Worse, if they ask the teachers I had. There’s zero percent chance anyone will believe a teacher doesn’t remember a straight A student even if I claim I was the quiet student in the back. _I’m too fucking brilliant not to be remembered!_ ” Dick takes another drag off the cig then sputters when he discovers it’s burned down to the filter. He holds up the cig towards Crowley with a fierce scowl as if it somehow is his fault that the cigarette had burnt out while Dick was freaking out.

Crowley takes another cig out of his pack, puts it in his mouth, lights it with his own cig and hands it over. “There are ways to make people remember things that didn’t take place, love.”

Dick stress smokes half the cig then twists around to ram his fist into the wall again. He bounces to his feet. “I _know that_! Bribery, blackmail and threats! I can’t threat everybody! I don’t have blackmail material! And _bribery_? Didn’t you get the memo?! I’m a fucking orphan from the slums! I have no fucking money! I’ve climbed myself from homelessness and starvation to a good life, but guess what?! I still have no fucking money! _Gnnn_!” He paces back and forth then stops dead catching a familiar scent. He turns around to see Lucifer stand further away in the corridor. Nobody’s supposed to be here. They are here because he doesn’t want anyone but Crowley to see or hear him have a meltdown. He doesn't want Crowley to see his meltdown either but he needs someone to calm him down and talk some sense into him.

He put on a pleasant smile as if it could cover up his pale, sweaty appearance. “Relax, Luci. No need to smell so uncertain. I'm rehearsing a play for the school theater group.”

“There is no theater group in this school,” Luci answers and walks towards them.

“Oh, really? How would you know?”

“Because my brother is a bigger nerd than you and his reaction to finding out, put centurion’s death to shame.”

If Dick wasn't so stressed he would have laughed at the idea of Mike staggering around pressing a hand to his heart and the other to his forehead then falling over and lie moaning for 20 minutes like in the famous play. It’s hard to imagine Mike be so dramatic. “Oh dear. So I’ve been wasting my time rehearsing then. Poor me,” Dick says dryly. 

Luci stops when he’s beside Crowley. Dick feels cold and clammy. Sweat runs down his neck. He takes another hit on his cigarette. It isn’t working to calm him down. He wants to siphon it to just knock him out cold. He won’t, but he wants to.

“What’s really going on?” Lucifer asks Crowley.

“Remember the family we took down last year? They’re kicking in their death throes. Fag?”

“And getting in good hits, by the look of it,” Luci states bemusedly side-eyeing Dick while taking the offered cigarette from Crowley and leaning in to let him light it.

“The accusations are completely _false_ ,” Dick says and resumes his pacing. “All I have to do is prove it... or grow a beard.”

Lucifer looks completely befuddled, raising an eyebrow towards Crowley.

“They accused him of committing fraud to get his scholarship.”

“Fraud how?”

“They claimed he never went to school and that he faked his paperwork,” Crowley explains then looks at Dick. “What have you told them this far?”

“Nothing. The investigation isn’t launched yet. Probably won’t be until tomorrow’s board meeting. Although, Montgomery did ask me questions about my favourite topic in school and such. The questions were a lot more personal than he usually asks so I pretended to believe he was flirting with me which quickly made him backtrack.”

“Which schools did you go to?” Luci asks and takes a hit on the cigarette. For a moment Dick can't fucking remember what he’d written. He pauses one beat too long, making Lucifer snigger puffs of smoke. “Ah. So that's why you'll have trouble proving yourself.”

“Oh, do shut up. I went to Tailwind High and Patron Augustus.”

“Tailwind High, huh? They might very well have fucked up your paperwork. Not a single computer in the whole school. We went there for half a year since it's the closest school to our home. But then Aiden visited and deemed it too outdated for us no matter how good the teachers were.”

“Why didn't you just make a donation?” Crowley asks Luci. 

Dick answers with an annoyed frown. “The answer is obvious, dear. With how much you have to pay for going to school, if the school doesn't have equipment and updated books it means someone is lining their pockets.”

Lucifer hums in agreement. “Or as Father and uncle Aiden would say - There's no use giving a blood transfusion to a dead horse.”

Dick takes a couple of quick drags on his cigarette, drops it on the floor and kills the cherry under the sole of his shoe. “Say, Lucifer… of course, I know the answer already… but, seeing as I'm so stressed and all… could you tell the address of Tailwind High?”

Lucifer laughs in delight. “I'll be damned. You just went straight into college without passing go? Impressive.”

“Those allegations are false,” Dick maintains. 

“But why not choose Mercery Blue Mount? They have a sponsorship program for penniless kids. Granted, it's only for a few, academically gifted. But still,” Luci says, ignoring Dick's insistence that he's innocent. 

“Dick could very well have gotten accepted into the program. He taught himself to read between the age of 6 and 7, then learned Finnish, German, and Spanish simultaneously in less than a year, then added French one summer simply because Jeff had a book and CD,” Crowley says. 

Lucifer whistles, impressed.

Dick waves it off. “Finnish hardly counts. The grammar is so complicated even they get confused by it. And they don't advertise free education in the slums.”

Lucifer takes another drag on his cigarette regarding Dick curiously. “How come you decide to learn three languages at once?” he asks as if that was even remotely important. 

Dick gestures impatiently for Crowley to give him another cig. “I had dealings with a European pack. All of them came from different countries so to better communicate with them I learned their languages. Primal communication just isn't nuanced enough and I wasn't remotely as adept at it as them. Nor, I suspect, will I ever be, considering that the Finnish guy was a Northern Scand.” Crowley hands him a lit cigarette that he immediately starts stress-puffing on. 

“What was your business with them?” Luci asks.

“I don't see how that's even remotely your business, dear. Now, be a good Alpha and tell me the fucking address,” Dick snaps.

Luci sniggers. “Conway Road 45.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, love. I’ll make sure people who need to remember you, do. Now, Brad’s in pre-rut. I suggest you go find him and wiggle that tight little bum of yours in front of him and he’ll be on you like a stamp on an envelope. I think you need it,” Crowley suggests.

Dick whines. Nevertheless, he does what he’s told. He can’t think straight and the bastards aren’t taking it seriously enough for him.

* * *

When Lucifer joins them at the lunch table he’s thrumming with held back glee, smelling so strongly of excitement that people turn to look at him curiously when he passes. He slaps the newspaper on the table between Dick and Mike and points at the article.

Mike lifts his eyebrows in surprise, skimming the article. “Oh, wow. Our old school burned down? ...Faulty wiring. Guess uncle was right when he said they were draining too much money and no matter how good the teachers are it doesn’t make up for it.”

Dick leans in to throw a look at the article. “Oh dear. So many memories of my school days burned to cider. Dear me. What a shame.”

Luci sniggers, absolutely thrilled.

“You went there?” Mike asks.

“Mhm,” Dick agrees.

“Lucky it happened at night,” Mike states.

“Yes. _Lucky_ ,” Dick agrees dryly.

Luci loses it, throwing his head back laughing, drawing the attention of everyone by the table. “Oh maaaan. Aiden said you were more than met the eyes but fuck if I’d ever expected this,” he says and taps the article with his finger gleefully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear.”

Luci holds up his hands in surrender. “Of course you don’t. Since you were with me all night,” he offers with a shit-eating grin and waggles his eyebrows at Dick. Handing out the alibi like a trophy for being ruthless.

“You two have…?” Chad asks and gestures between them questioningly. Chad, the fucker, who knows about Dick’s crush.

“No,” Dick answers decisively. “He’d have to actually court me for that,” he says and throws a pointed look at Luci. “He showed me his room, we talked, it got late and I stayed the night. _Sleeping._ ” He’ll gladly take the alibi offered but he refuses to take an imaginary knot without getting to actually experience it.

“Hard to get. Gottcha.” Lucifer makes fucking finger guns at him and winks.

Mike narrows his eyes suspiciously and looks between them. “You… spent a night with Luci… without him knotting you… and you didn’t poke your head into my room to say hello…?”

“Luci said you were busy,” Dick deadpans.

Mike scowls at Luci, then his eyes go wide and he stares down at the article and then at Dick, finally catching on. “Gods! But _why_?”

“Because Luci is ruggedly handsome?” Dick answers innocently to the wrong question. There are people at this table who don’t need to know what kind of trouble he’s in.

Mike looks at Luci who looks as full of shit as he actually is. After a moment of prolonged eye-contact Mike points at him sternly as if to say ‘you’re explaining yourself later’, then turns his attention back to Dick with a friendly smile. “So, you were saying the Chaplain of Coventry is ridiculous because…?” picking up their previous discussion from before Luci interrupted.

“Bro… am I the only one who feels like there were at least three sentences missing from that conversation?” Brad asks Chad quietly.

“ _Bro_ ,” Chad agrees, but none of them pushes the subject.

* * *

Crowley smells and acts smug the upcoming days. Dick’s approached by strangers that greet him like an old friend, sharing one or a few fake memories with him of how they know each other, including real memories of teachers and lessons he’s supposedly had. They’re all former students at the schools Dick claimed to have gone to. Crowley’s behind it but refuses to tell what he did to get them to comply. “I make deals, love. That’s what I do. There are other things than money to make people bend to your will and that’s my speciality.” That’s all Dick gets. “Say… how far are you willing to go to get yourself out of this? So I know what I have to play with if anyone needs something I can’t give them in exchange, but you can.” he asks thoughtfully one day smelling uncertain.

“I don’t gamble with anything I don’t already have, or that will tie me up for a long time.”

“Good to know.” Crowley ducks out before Dick can question him further.

Turns out, the headmaster of Patron Augustus is monogamously mated and Crowley promised him one night with a male Omega without his mate finding out, _after_ he played his part. Crowley’s both pissy and guilty about it but Dick doesn’t care. At the hearing, the guy comes in, lights up, and greets Dick as if he’s delighted to see a favourite student again. He’s very regretful that his school somehow lost Dick’s records and highly offended that someone could question Dick. His testimony might be what ultimately clears Dick. So what if he has to fuck the guy afterwards? The guy’s a complete jerk, putting even Sebastian to shame. But if that’s all it takes to climb the ladder and hold his position then Dick would gladly fuck all the assholes it takes. They can’t smell his repulsion anyway. Through it all, Dick stubbornly maintains his innocence. 

He never becomes a suspect of arson. Perhaps because Tailwind High is in such disrepair that nobody suspects it was set on fire intentionally. The fire itself gets three safety inspectors sent to jail for taking bribes and falsely clearing property without inspection. The owner of the school skips the country and avoids punishment. Lucifer’s alibi might never have been necessary, but Luci looks at him with a lot more respect now and starts treating him as if they actually are friends, rather than Dick being just a friend of the pack.

* * *

“Were you serious about spending the summer with me, darling?” Crowley asks when the school year is coming to a close. They’re lying on the grass in front of the main building, sharing a cigarette and enjoying the sun.

“I was. But I’ve failed to find an apartment yet.”

“Mmh. I convinced my so-called mum to let me stick around. They rented a studio apartment down by the park for me. It only has one bed, though.”

“The rent down there is insane. Even with my raise I probably won’t be able to get enough for half.”

Crowley rolls to lie half on top of his chest and holds the cig to Dick’s mouth. “I promised the wanking bugger he could knot your mouth, darling. That knobhead was disgusting and just thinking about you having to― I want to bloody _murder him_ for it. I’ll let you live with me for free to make it up to you.”

It’s the first time Crowley brings up the deal he’d made with the headmaster. There had been some unpleasantries in that agreement, as Dick found out when he came to the hotel room after he’d been cleared of the charges. Of course, he’d have endured much, _much_ worse for the sake of getting off scot-free. He blows out smoke away from Crowley. “ _You_ can knot my mouth if you want to,” Dick tells him then hides his annoyance behind a smirk when Crowley lays his cheek on his chest to hide his face without answering. “If we have to share a bed I won’t tolerate you bringing home other Omegas,” he says instead, wondering, for the millionth time, why the hell Crowley won’t touch him that way. It’s a mystery, especially since Crowley acts both jealously and protective.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

“Then I guess we’re shacking up for the summer too...”

Dick’s more than happy with that solution.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My awesome Beta [YouCantKeepMeDown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YouCantKeepMeDown) pointed out that three of SPNs biggest villains had a meeting in that corridor. ^^' I hadn't even thought about it that way and it made me laugh.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for commenting! Sorry for not responding to your comments like I should. :P They really make my day and they help me so much when it comes to better the way I tell a story. So thanks. <3


	16. Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets drunk. He should really learn how to drink with moderation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus. Dad died. It wasn't unexpected since he had both COPD and blood cancer. But it still hit me pretty hard. 
> 
> As for the chapters, you can see I added yet one more. It's already written and is waiting to be beta read. So chapter 17 _is_ the last chapter. Okay, that's it. Tomorrow early we're emptying dad's apartment and going back home. I should have been sleeping but instead, I stayed up writing. It feels good to be able to do that again since I was completely without inspiration and ability to write for so long. :P

### It all comes down to Sex

Crowley’s body relaxes and his forehead falls onto Dick’s chest, the stink of anxiety and distress almost overtaking the heavy scent of arousal. Dick wants to scream in frustration. He shoves Crowley off of him with a growl and Crowley rolls over to throws his arm over his face, elbow over his eyes, to hide himself before Dick can see him properly. “This is bullshit,” Dick states and sits up, grabbing the cigarette pack from the nightstand. He taps a cig out with harsh movements and lights it, then puts it back. He inhales sharply and blows out smoke downward in a hard puff. “This is fucking ridiculous. I love you, Crowley. You’re my best friend and I will put up with a lot of crap from you. But this? This is not fucking okay!” He takes three quick puffs on the cigarette and lets the smoke out in a sharp downward huff. Anger boils under his skin. “I’ve got fucking feelings and when this happens it _hurts_. I deserve better. I’ve had enough of Alphas rejecting me, okay? If you don’t want to knot me, that’s fine. But don’t fucking rile me up! You’re stomping all over my insecurities and I don’t need that kind of shit. Not from you! Is this some kind of ego thing for you? Do you do this because you want to know that you can get me wet? That I want you? If that’s it, then rest assured that I’m gagging to have you and stop this nonsense!”

“It’s not that,” Crowley says tiredly.

“Then what is it? Explain to me so I can understand,” Dick asks him and halts his movement, cigarette frozen halfway to his mouth while he stares at Crowley. He waits while seconds tick away away in silence. Crowley doesn’t answer. He just lies there limply with his arm covering his face. Limp, as his dick. This is the third time this has happened. Dick doesn’t get it. One moment they’re at it, grinding away, licking at glands, greedy hands going everywhere, the scent of Crowley’s arousal so thick you could choke on it. Then, when it’s time to push in, Crowley loses his erection without fail. The first time Dick had been surprised and asked what happened, not getting an answer. The second time he hadn’t said a word about it, just calmed down and cuddled Crowley. But it’s eating a giant hole inside of him.

When Crowley yet again doesn’t answer Dick huffs in annoyance, pinches the cig between his lips and gets out of bed. He dresses with sharp, jerky movements.

“Where are you going?” Crowley asks.

“ _Out._ ” 

Dick leaves their dorm room slamming the door without a backward glance.

Moving in together during summer had been great in many departments for Dick. He got to sleep cuddled up tightly with someone he loved, he lived 4 minutes away from work, and their lack of common interests let Dick study undisturbed while Crowley was out partying. Only once had Crowley broken his promise and brought another Omega home. The moment they set foot inside the door, smelling of joint arousal Dick had dropped fangs, flared his brightest, pulled a knife from the kitchen counter and growled _murder_. Both Crowley and the Omega had fled and Crowley hadn’t come home for two days. For the first time in his life Dick had money. Not like the year before when he didn’t have to worry too much, but had to think about how he spent it―but good money. He’d been promoted at work when his boss heard he was looking for a better paying job. In two weeks he’d earned what went for his food budget for a fucking year. Granted, his budget was tailored to not having any money at all. But still. He opened a bank account for savings and allowed himself to spend money rather frivolously outside of what he saved. He went to the movies and he bought books. Crowley laughed at him when he saw that he'd bought books about German and Spanish, but while Crowley was out partying Dick learned to write the two languages he already spoke. He made two very expensive purchases. One Walkman with radio so he could listen to real music when Crowley plays his crap, and one cell phone with a prepaid card. With it he called Sebastian to hook up a couple of times over the summer, and when Sebastian couldn't get away they'd have phone sex. Dick discovered that he thoroughly enjoys playing with himself while dirty talking an Alpha. 

Then Balt came to visit. He was just there one day when Dick came home from work. Crowley wasn’t at home but Dick recognised Balt by the scent and didn’t react with hostility to have a stranger in his home. Balt is a dearheart. He offered his hand in greeting as well as his neck, discovered how hot Dick was and started deep-purring right away. ‘You’re in Heat, sweetie. My knot is yours to make use of if you want me.’ Dick did very much want that. Crowley came home 30 minutes later to find them firmly knotted in bed. If Dick thought he’d be jealous he needn’t have worried. Crowley’s scent has never been so happy and content as it was when he found the two of them in bed together and Balt called him over for a kiss.

Seeing Balt and Crowley together made Dick fall in love with them as a couple, just like he’d fallen in love with Brad and Chad as a couple. Crowley is just as snarky with Balt, albeit blushing much more often and smelled inexorably happy anytime Balt was near. Balt manages to combine a love for wine, champagne, coke, sex and sarcasm with a nurturing, caring personality and a deep-seated understanding of scentlessness. He’s the first one to pinpoint that Dick’s in Heat on first glance and he acted as he would if he could smell Dick. But his 3 weeks long visit is where sex came into play between Crowley and Dick, directed and encouraged by Balt. By now they’ve done everything _except_ knotting. While Balt was there it hadn’t been a problem since he gladly divided his knot between the both of them. Now, though? Now it’s driving Dick insane. He fucking loves Crowley. Their love might be based mostly on platonic feelings but it’s strong, and it doesn’t take much for Crowley to get Dick all riled up and ready to go.

The worst part is that Crowley has no problem doing the do with anyone else. No. It’s just Dick. And Crowley won’t say why.

Dick stomps angrily through the corridor, leaves their dorm wing and heads down the stairs. Once he’s out in the chilly night air he heads for the Omega Run. It’s too early in the night and someone might see him but he couldn’t care less. Halfway there the sound of pumping bass music makes him stop and turn toward the row of Alpha, Beta, and Omega houses. There are parties going on in all three of them. He smokes his cig regarding the houses, anger still seething within. “The hell with it.” He drops his cig, squishes it under his sole and heads for the Alpha house.

* * *

The music is loud and the house is packed. It’s not what Dick had expected. He’s seen his share of college movies and while the parties there are rambunctious and boisterous with lots of drinking, stepping inside he realises they have been heavily modified (censored) to fit a Conservative audience. For starters, nobody ever flares on these parties in movies. Dick’s literally never seen so many flaring people with dropped fangs in one place before as in here. A lot of people are in various stages of undress. He sees several couples knotting. Sometimes that’s depicted in movies too but then it’s always polite knotting. Here at least three pairs are downright _fucking_ , putting on a show.

He snags a drink from somebody’s hand while he passes, downing it before the guy even has the time to get out an indignant ‘ _Hey!_ ’ Dick doesn’t care. If anyone wants to fight he’s geared up to show them how fighting is done in the slums. He puts the empty glass on a table he passes going like a homing bird towards the dance floor. There are several people dancing. Amongst them an Omega being ‘courted’ by two Alphas who are so lousy at dancing they probably can’t even spell the word. He snorts in derision and begins to move to the music, making his way towards the Omega who looks both made awkward and unimpressed by the two guys’ drunken efforts while she moves fluidly and skillfully.

Dick’s in his element. Dancing the Omega or Alpha’s part doesn’t matter. The bass is pumping so high it’s thrumming in his feet and ear drums. He challenges the Alphas by stepping between them and the Omega, easily mirroring her steps. She lights up when she realises she has a dance partner as skilled as her and starts taking more advanced steps. It doesn’t take long before the other two Alphas give up.

He dances several songs with the Omega. Both dirty grinding and advances and showy dances. Eventually she hugs him laughing out of breath and thanks him for the dancing but she has to take a break.

Dick is undeterred. He doesn’t need a dance partner and nobody else currently on the floor is up to par with him, so he closes his eyes and keeps dancing. Scents are jumbled in gatherings such as these. The smell of arousal is thick in the air, as well as sweat, alcohol, and excitement. But it’s hard to weed out individual scents unless someone’s really close.

But then, somebody is. There’s a hand on his hip and a chest pressed against his back, feet stepping along with his a bit unstably. Dick takes a deep breath through his nose and inhales Mike’s gorgeous scent. “Glad you finally made it here, Maybella,” Mike yells right by his ear, voice felt rather than heard in the loud music. Every word is a hot puff against the soft skin behind his ear giving him goosebumps. He opens his eyes just to see Mike’s arm curve around him to hold a red solo cup by his face. “Brought you a drink!”

Dick takes it and drinks down half in one go. He has to cough and shudder as the liquor goes down. It’s one of those hex brews - one dash of juice mixed with whatever hard liquor available. “ _Oh fuck!_ ” He feels Mike laugh. The volume here by the dance floor only allows for shouted conversation so he refrains from making a snarky remark. Instead, he drains the rest of the drink. He came here hoping to defuse his anger so he might as well get drunk.

“Thirsty?!”

Dick nods. They’re still moving to the beat together but Mike lets go of him to put two fingers in his mouth and whistle shrilly enough to be heard above the music. He gets the attention of someone Dick can’t see and gestures with the solo cup, holding up two fingers before flinging the solo cup in a bin beside the wall and grabbing Dick’s hips again.

“I’m not as great a dancer as you and Janie so if someone challenges me for you I’ll just knock them out the old fashioned way!” Mike yells in his ear.

It takes a beat until Dick gets what he said due to the volume but when he does he laughs in delight at the thought of Mike fighting for him. He turns around so they’re face to face and leans in to yell “Don’t worry! I’ll keep it simple for you, Mr. Sloane!” 

Mike grins at him, eyelids heavy and hair a disarray. He’s pretty damned hammered but Dick couldn’t care less. He’s gorgeous and smells absolutely lovely even with the toxic alcohol fumes wafting off of him. Somebody sticks two solo cups towards them and Dick takes one without looking away from Mike. They click their cups together, take a sip, then proceed to dance close together―one hand holding the cup, the other each other.

* * *

“~ _...I don't wanna get caught, up in the rhythm of it. But I can't help myself, no, I can't help myself, no, no. Caught up in the middle of it. No, I can't help myself, no I can't help myself, no, no, no. Caught up in the rhythm of it…~_ ”

Half an hour to an hour and 3 or 4 drinks later Dick’s head is swimming. He has no idea where their empty cups went. He and Jeff used to go out to dance, pausing only to drink water and the occasional drink. This, chugging drinks to get drunk fast hasn’t been Dick’s thing. In the slums it’s stupidity. Here, with Mike grinding against him in relative safety it’s too easy to get drunk. Mike’s a pretty good dancer for his state of inebriation. It’s Dick’s skills that are traded for pure horniness. Several times he leans in close enough to rub his temple against Mike’s neck, uselessly marking him swept up in some fuzzy fantasy of what could be if Mike wasn’t Packrunning trash. Mike’s just Mike to him now, not Michael of the Williams pack. And he smells strongly of arousal. Mike’s nose travel along his cheek towards his mouth, and yet, when Mike’s lips finds his it jolts him in surprise. It’s the spark that ignites the bushfire. Dancing is quickly forgotten as they kiss, making out like Progs. Dick’s heart and breath keeps stuttering. He can’t get enough of Mike’s tongue, his hands, how his blue flare keeps getting stronger the longer they’re at it, how his fangs are sharp against the tongue. Not until Mike fumbles with his own belt and the zipper on the back of Dick’s Omega pants does Dick find enough brain cells to yell “No! People!” He’s not up to par with his usual eloquence but Mike understands and starts pulling him along off the dance floor with feverish eyes. The trek through the throng of people and up the stairs takes eons as they kiss and grope each other, stumbling rather than walking, losing clothes as they go. But once upstairs with Mike’s door locked behind them Dick flares brightly, no longer holding back…

* * *

When he wakes up he’s not nearly as hungover as he deserves to be. That might have something to do with him still being drunk. His mouth is dry, his bladder about to explode but he’s comfortably tucked up against a sweet-smelling chest rumbling from snores. He’s warm, sweaty, sticky from dried come and slick, and his hole is throbbing as if he’s had pretty hardcore sex. Sex he only has hazy memories from. He’s an idiot. This never should have happened. He’s pining enough as it is. Sleeping with Mike is a bad idea even if they’re sober. Getting swept up while drunk is downright disastrous. Dick’s not emotionally equipped to do casual with someone he’s pining for this badly.

He extracts himself carefully without waking Mike. He finds his pants, socks and shoes, but his shirts are nowhere to be found. He steals a used shirt from Mike and leaves the room in search for a toilet. Once he’s relieved himself he goes downstairs. It’s quiet in the house. It looks like a mess but no one’s around. He still can’t find his shirts and gives up his search and goes home.

He collides with Crowley when he opens the door to their room. Crowley sniffs the air and scowls. “Bloody hell.”

“Don’t judge me. If you’d just tell me―”

Crowley interrupts him by shoving him out of the way and leaving their room to go who knows where.

* * *

“Dick, wait up!” Dick throws a look over his shoulder, sees Mike come jogging, and keeps walking. Mike speeds up to a run until they’re walking side by side.

“Mr. Sloane,” Dick greets curtly.

Mike makes a face. “Yeah, um, so… This Friday…”

“Uh huh?”

“Did we…? Someone said we…? I mean I know we were dancing but… did I do right by you?”

Mike has a penchant for getting blackout drunk. Dick knows this. He still grits his teeth before he plasters on a pleasant smirk. “If you have to ask, wouldn’t the answer automatically be no?” he asks and lifts an eyebrow while side-eyeing Mike. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in a bit of a hurry,” he lies and waves nonchalantly in a dismissive gesture.

Mike stops, looking forlorn watching him walk away.

* * *

Dick pours the last content in the vial on his tongue and starts siphoning just as Crowley enters the room. Dick jerks, looking up at him with a guilty expression. Crowley blinks in surprise and closes the door. “What are you doing?”

Well fuck. Although, it’s Crowley. He might as well fess up. “I’m siphoning the secretion of somebody to give myself a scent, temporarily.” Dick smirks. “And to get a bit high,” he admits. He holds out the vial to Crowley who takes it and sniffs curiously at it.

“Mister Wednesday?”

“Mhm.”

“You mean you're not shagging the Wednesday wanker?”

Dick chuckles. “Dear me, no,” he lies. “He's much too conceited. But we have an agreement. I am a guinea pig exclusively for medical experiments with his name on. In return he gives me this.” Dick lifts the vial case from the floor, puts it on the bed beside him and opens the lid to reveal the rows of neatly numbered vials. A notebook falls out of the lid.

Crowley sits down beside him with an intrigued expression. He lifts the vials and looks at them, one at a time, then flips the notebook open. He reads in it and huffs. “Will make Crowley a pissbaby, no 23, 25, 4, and 17,” he reads aloud and gives Dick a flat look.

“Each scent evokes different reactions from different people. I’ve catalogued it and keep track. Like number 3, for an instance. Professor Carmichael will be much more inclined to give praise and good grades when I’ve siphoned it. I also use a little on my fingertips when we have written tests so the paper will smell of it. Plus, it boosts my mood. It’s a win win for me.”

“And people agree to let you siphon their secretion willy-nilly?”

Dick shakes his head with an amused smirk. “Of course not. This is all very hush hush. The Omegas who are saving themselves have traded vials of their secretion for sex with me, but to their knowledge I use it to mark myself up by smearing some on me. Oh, and should you tell anyone of this, pain and maiming will happen, dear. Just so you understand.”

Crowley chuckles. “This is brilliant, darling. Bloody bril. And the Wednesday wanker? Why do you always smell like him after meeting him if you don’t shag him?”

“I’m unique. No Omega born scentless has been studied like this. I’m not depressed in the conventional sense. So he studies me, takes my vitals before and after the siphoning. Makes notes of long term changes and so forth,” Dick lies. “But he can’t officially integrate anyone else in the studies since it requires me siphoning them.”

Crowley nods and smells pleased, swallowing the lie hook, line, and sinker. Dick’s not going to make the same mistake as he did with Jeff. It’s one thing to admit being severely depressed after your mates got murdered. But never, ever, will he tell someone else how high the risk to him is when it comes to bond-loss. During the summer he and Crowley bonded. It’s not a mating bond and he can still wash away most traces of it or ‘cover it’ by siphoning someone else or getting thoroughly marked up, but they _are_ bonded and Dick doesn’t know how losing this type of strong bond will effect him.

A few days later Crowley comes to him asking him for a favour. He wants Dick to help him convince an Alpha to go along with something Crowley proposed. He gives Dick a vial of someone’s secretion to siphon beforehand. The Alpha is crazy about the smell and Dick’s successful. After that Crowley never questions Dick’s frequent change of scent. He no longer turns into a pissbaby after Dick has hooked up with Sebastian. 

Hook, line, and sinker.

* * *

Dick’s an idiot.

He knows he’s an idiot because here he is, drunk out of his ass sitting in a couch in the Alpha house, comfortably tucked in under Mike’s arm watching Luci fuck a girl like he’d been paid to do a porno. And the girl had demanded that he didn’t knot her because ‘it’s too big!’

It’s not like Dick is jealous. Well… he wasn’t. But then Luci pulled out just enough to knot outside of her and _fuck_ , his knot is big. Currently the O is riding him and he’s holding her up by the ass, putting his knot on full display. Dick thinks she’s a wimp. Sure, a knot that big might hurt, but _fuck fuck fuck_. We’re talking bucket list big. Yep. It’s henceforward on Dick’s bucket list to feel a knot that big inside of him. He stares as if spellbound and downs his fifth? Seventh? Drink in one go. Mike plucks his solo cup out of his hand and gestures someone for a refill. He doesn’t need a refill of his drink, he needs another kind of ‘fill’.

Mike’s laughter and chuckled ‘That can be arranged’, tells him he might have said that out loud. He really shouldn’t drink this much. But it feels good. It feels damn good.

Luci opens his mouth to rest his long fangs against the Os shoulder while he peeks over it to study when Mike starts kissing Dick’s neck. That’s another of those things the brothers do. They like to watch each other get it on. 

“Do you have to have your fangs out? They’re so sharp. It hurts. Maybe you can just teeth a little?” the Omega says to Luci who obediently withdraws his glorious fangs.

Mike and Dick snort at the same time. “Lady, you _do_ know he’s a Primal, don’t you? Perfect flare, perfect fangs and perfect knot. It’s all wasted on you,” Dick says, thinking he really should learn to keep his mouth shut when he’s drunk because Luci’s looking way too smug about it.

The Omega twists around to look at him. She’s insanely pretty. Dick would want her around just to watch her perfect oval face with her long lashes, bronze skin and slanted, black eyes. She looks contrite. He’d expected snark. “I know, I _know_ ,” she says. “But I don’t handle pain well. I’m sorry.”

Dick frowns. That just isn’t right. “Don’t listen to me when I’m living up to my name, dear. I’m not the one you’re having sex with. If pain isn’t your thing I can hardly tell you it should be, now can I?”

She giggles. Such gorgeous Omega, scent and everything. Dick can’t decide if he’s more jealous of her or Luci. This might actually be the first time another Omega’s scent and looks have been as enticing as any Alpha’s.

Mike sniggers. “Since when is your name ‘ass’?” he jokes. He smells pleased. Wonderful and pleased.

“Since I acted like one, apparently. And you must forgive me my waspishness. I’m so horny slick is all but soaking through my pants and then I got snubbed because she doesn’t want bad sex just to please my aesthetics.”

“You are?” Mike asks with a mix of wonder and hopefulness. “Want to show them how it’s really done?”

That’s how he ends up making the mistake he told himself he’d never repeat, all over again. Not in private this time. Oh no, that would be too easy. No he has to go flaunt himself in the middle of a party. Chad and Brad naturally discover it and hoots their approval. Not that Dick cares in the particular moment. No, he's too busy enjoying himself with a fucking _Packrunner_ that will never mate him. He should know better. He _should._

* * *

“....and she kept making this high pitched sound. Like, _eeeeeeeeee_! Not like a keening purr or anything. Just that fucking sound all the way through. Bro, I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Couldn’t wait for my knot to go down so I could get out of there. And then she tells me it was the best knotting she’d ever had,” Brad tells them with a horrified expression.

There are sniggers all around the table. “ _Bro._ So what did you do?” Chad asks wide eyed, sharing the awkwardness second handedly. They’ve all finished eating by now but a teachers conference has given them two hours without classes after lunch. Now they’re sharing awkward or awful sex experiences. 

“The next time I saw her I told her I'd met someone who wanted monogamy. She was a real nice girl apart for that. I felt like a total ass. I didn’t want to hurt her but she freaked me the hell out.”

“Nice save, bro.”

“How about you, Dick. Had any bad sex lately?” Luci asks with a smirk and throws Mike a teasing look.

At his sides both Mike and Crowley suddenly smell anxious, both nervous they will be mentioned. Crowley because he loses his erection and Mikey because he can’t remember if the sex was good or not. Dick feels like laughing about it. “I have, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Did I― Do I need to apologise for something?” Mike asks nervously, making Luci cackle.

“What gives you that idea?” Dick asks with a faint smirk.

“Luci said―”

Dick scoffs with a dismissive gesture. “Your brother is a scoundrel. If you drink so much you need him to recount events for you, you have yourself to blame when he makes up stories. I wasn’t going to name you, if that’s what you worried about.” Beside him the scent of Crowley’s anxiety gets stronger. Dick puts his hand on Crowley’s thigh to soothe him. “No. You guys remember that professor that came from Finland as a guest speaker in psychology? Topias Mäkinen?”

“No you _didn’t_!” Chad exclaims completely scandalized. Brad grins the broadest, delighted and shiteating grin and leans back in his chair to put his arm on the backrest of Chad’s chair while staring at Dick.

“Wasn’t he monogamously mated?” Mike asks. “I’m sure I saw one of those rings on his fingers that Progs commonly use to show off a mateship.”

“Rings?” Brad asks bemusedly.

“Yeah, bro. Many Progs are noseblind so they show that they’re mated by wearing matching rings or necklaces,” Chad explains.

“Huh.”

“It’s common in the Nordic countries too, even amongst Conservatives,” Mike interjects. “Since monogamy is rare there and Packrunning is the most prevalent ideology they wear rings to show they’ve converted and are off limits.”

Dick hadn’t known that. But it makes sense.

Luci interrupts them impatiently. “You guys stop yapping and keep talking, Dick. I want to hear this. You slept with a professor?”

“I did, yes. I was told he came from the North of Finland, which makes him a Nordic Scand. I used to know one of those. They’re sometimes referred to as wolves. They can grow fur and it’s often wolf coloured. I’d only seen Toivo with short hair on his face, looking almost like the colour had been painted on. But I’ve seen photos of fully pelted Scands. Naturally, I was curious.” They’re all giving him rapt attention now. Except…

“I, uh… I c-can pelt,” Chad admits smelling of fear and looking nervous. “I used to do it all the time as a kid when I was playing outside alone during wintertime. But dad discovered me once and freaked out. Apparently, people with fur used to be shot on sight and considered monsters, not even humans at all. So I, uh, I don’t do it anymore. But he told me that it’s not uncommon amongst Packrunners and Primals in general, to be born with short fur. I guess it happens amongst Progs and Conservatives too. I think I was born that way and that’s why there are no baby pictures of me. But I don’t know.”

“ _Bro._ That’s pretty awesome,” Brad says, making Chad’s show of nerves dissipate like magic.

“I wish I’d know that beforehand,” Dick tells them. “Then I could have avoided the professor and asked you instead.”

“Was he mean?” Mike asks.

“Not at all. I came up to him after the lesson and introduced myself. I spoke Finnish so he was intrigued enough to let me walk him to his car where I casually mentioned I was in Heat. So he stops walking and looks at me and I mention that I knew a ‘wolf’ once. His mind took the leap I wanted it to so he told me he was monogamously mated. But he was born a Packrunner and like with anyone who don’t believe in monogamy but is forced into it by a partner I just had to say the four magic words for him to cheat.”

“What are those?”

Dick smirks lazily. “ _How will she know_?”

“Ooooo!”  
“ _Bro!_ ”  
“No!”

All of them react scandalized or pleased in one way or another. Crowley doesn’t say anything, he just smirks and takes Dick’s hand on his thigh while smelling so pleased Dick has to struggle not to purr. Crowley is always pleased when Dick shows off his manipulative sides.

Luci―perhaps not surprisingly―also smells exceedingly pleased. Although he howls in delight. “Fuck! _Damn it_ , Dick! You’re so soft spoken and polite most of the time I forget how devious you can be when you want something,” he applauds.

“Yes, but his poor mate, bro,” Brad says.

“Tssk. What did she expect, forcing him to choose between his pack and her?” Luci defends with a scowl. “If you’re not raised in a pack you don’t get it, but the longing is fucking _constant_. We are _one_. And Alphas don’t get wanderlust. We stay with our family and we don’t believe in Truemates. It can happen that we meet someone whose scent we go nuts over but we don’t _leave_ our pack for them. We make them part of our pack,” he rants. “The higher ranking the Alpha the less likely he is to leave for any reason. I’d _never_ leave for an Omega. Mike might because he’s an idiot with a penchant for wanting the unattainable―”

“Hey!” Mike protests.

“Where’s the lie?! You get obsessed!” Luci counters and starts counting up on his fingers. “There was Sarah, who didn’t even look at you. Kate the Prog, and don’t get me started on that clusterfuck. And then there’s―”

Mike kicks Luci hard under the table. Between one heartbeat and another, both brothers are flaring, dropping fangs and growling threatening at each other. Dick feels himself purr a calming ‘all is well’ before he can think about it. Maybe it’s all this talk about pack that made him react like he’d learned while living with the Europeans instead of flaring discreetly, averting his face and licking his lips with a lowered head like the rest of them. Deep inside he aches when both Luci and Mike gives him a quick look then revert to normal, the threat of imminent violence dying down. Maybe the ache for Toivo and Henry never will go away fully.

Luci turns towards Brad again as if nothing happened. “As I was saying, if we _do_ leave we usually end up as Siderunners for other packs if we leave temporarily, or join another pack if it isn’t. You’ll get it. Once you and Chad, you know. You’ll get it,” he says and then gestures between the two.

Brad frowns in bemusement. “Once Chad and I what?”

“He means that you’ll understand if you fall in love with an Omega that prohibits you from being friends, dear,” Dick explains diplomatically.

“I wouldn’t allow that, bro,” Chad states determinately.

“Yeah, bro. That’s not an option,” Brad agrees and leans in toward Chad to quickly rub his temple against Chad’s cheek to reaffirm their bond. This semester their scents have started changing. They’re so tightly bonded they probably are pack bonded already even though they haven’t had bonding sex. Anyone with two brain cells can tell. Well. Except for Brad and Chad. Oh, no. To them, they’re just bros. Except anytime Brad goes into a rut both of them get frustrated and scent each other next to obsessively.

“ _See_? You get it! I’d never act like a fool for a sweet-smelling Omega,” Lucifer says emphatically.

Dick smirks lopsidedly. “What are you talking about, Luci? You _always_ act like a fool for Omegas.”

Luci gives him a dark look and the rest of them snigger. “Pfft. Enough about me, you were telling us about the professor you fucked,” he say to divert the attention away from himself.

“I don’t get how you could sleep with him,” Brad says. “He didn’t seem like your type.”

“Yeah, bro. I’ve only seen you with young and strong Alphas. Good looking ones. Mäkinen was fat and must have been over fifty,” Chad agrees.

“Good looking like Brad?” Dick teases with a pointedly raised eyebrow just to see Chad blush and smile at his lap. “No. I do have a preferred type, Chad, but it has nothing to do with looks or age and everything to do with the ability to thrive, not only survive. But in this case I was in Heat, he smelled decently and had something I thought I wanted. Then my usual standards weren’t so important,” he goes on to save Chad the embarrassment of being called out. “Although, he did know how to court an Omega so I didn’t have to lower my standards. Right after I’d pointed out that spending a Heat with me wouldn’t leave a scent on him, he asked me out to dinner. Took me to _Lumiére_ ―” There’s a murmur of impressed approval all around the table at the mention of the famous restaurant. Topias was friends with the owner and managed to bypass a months-long waiting list with one phone call. Dick had been stunned and after having eaten there vowed to one day get rich enough to be able to go to restaurants like that whenever he felt like it. “―and bought me dinner coupled with rewarding conversation and good wine, then took me to his hotel room. Once there things started to get hot and heavy. When we were naked he purred ‘So you’ve got a shifting kink, huh?’ I played coy, batted my lashes and said ‘perhaps’. I didn’t know it then, but I do _not_ have a shifting kink. Feral kink? Yes. Give me a bright flare, sharp fangs and feral behaviour and I’ll be a happy camper. But that? What he did? Not my thing. _At all_. I’m glad he couldn’t smell me or he’d known how freaked out I was and caught me in a lie.”

Brad and Mike speak at the same time.  
“What happened?”  
“What did he do?”

“He _shifted_. Not just pelting, but his whole body took another shape. His shoulders got broader and curved slightly inward, his ribcage got rounder, his arms and legs more muscular. His fat almost disappeared. The fur on his body wasn’t short like it had been on Toivo, but at least three inches long in places like the back. But the worst part was his face. I’ve never seen anyone shift their face so much. I swear, he looked like a cross between a wolf and a human. It was like having sex with an anim―” A faint scent of arousal to his left makes Dick cut off and twist his head to raise an eyebrow at Mike. “Really, Mike?”

Luci sniggers and Crowley leans forward so he can look curiously at Mike turning a dark shade of red while distress mixes with the faint arousal. “What? Don’t judge. I think somebody being able to shift that much sounds hot, that’s all,” Mike flusters and reaches for his water bottle.

“It sounds like bloody tosh to me,” Crowley says. “The pain of a shift that big would kill you.”

“Nu-uh,” Dick refutes. “Not if you’re a Scand. According to Topias, most of the Northmost Packrunners can shift as much as him. It isn’t even _that_ painful for them. Oh, it still hurts, he said, but he likened it to pleasure-pain.”

“So they _can_ turn into wolves?” Chad asks.

Dick shakes his head. “No. He said that shifts bigger than that would cause excruciating pain. There’s a threshold. He said that sometimes stubborn people try to shift through the pain and it always results in them fainting, if they’re lucky, or dying if they aren’t. He’d heard of no cases where anyone had succeeded. He also believes that there are a lot of people on this side of the pond, who would be able to shift almost as much as him, but anywhere Conservatives or Progs are dominant shifting has either become taboo or shifters have been hunted like monsters and killed, until nobody ever does it except during extreme distress. He guessed that parents seeing their kits do something like that would nip the behaviour in the bud for safety’s sake. Like with Chad,” he adds.

“But I can’t shift my body like that, bro. Only pelt, apart from the usual stuff.”

“Are you also wolf coloured?” Mike asks curiously.

Chad shakes his head. “Nah, bro. I’m white and golden tan. I’ve got three stripes that starts like an arrow point between my eyes, go up over my head and along my back where they get really broad for a bit, then converge again in a point on my tailbone.”

“Really…?” Mike starts, smelling excited. “Say, Chad… how do you feel about―”

“No,” Luci interrupts. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, _come on_ , Luci. Don’t be so jealous,” Mike whines.

Dick thinks Luci’s protest has more to do with Brad’s narrowed eyes and displeased scent than jealousy. But then again, Alpha on Alpha might infringe on pack politics. Chad chuckles and grins at Mike full of amusement. “Are you propositioning me, Mike?”

“I might be…” Mike agrees.

“Bro, I’m flattered, but I’m not taking your knot,” Chad sniggers.

Mike draws breath to say something, pauses, then deflates and holds up his hands in defeat. Dick wonders if maybe Mike wanted to take Chad’s knot, not the other way around. Dick’s still holding Crowley’s hand under the table, stroking it with his thumb unconsciously. Crowley can sometimes talk like he loves the sound of his own voice, but when they talk about sex he’s often quiet like he is now.

Luci’s been balancing his chair on its hind legs, scowling at Mike and smelling more and more distressed. Dick thinks it has to do with Mike and Chad until Luci’s head snaps towards him. “You stayed with him,” he accuses. “You fucking stayed with the professor, didn’t you? Despite being turned off by him.”

Dick blinks in startlement at Luci’s sudden shift back. “Why, yes of course. That was the agreement. I stayed the weekend. He’d have known that I lied about knowing what being a ‘wolf’ entailed if I didn’t stay.”

Luci scrunches up his face and squeezes his eyes shut. “ _Fuck._ That’s just―! _No!_ ” He opens his eyes and points accusingly at Dick. “See? That’s why I could never have sex with you!”

_Ouch._

“I wouldn’t know if you changed your mind midway through,” Luci goes on, upset. “My knot won’t go down unless the O starts smelling distressed or in worst case, skunks. I can’t pull out if I hurt you. And you staying with him? You more or less submitted yourself to forced knottings for a full weekend and he didn’t even know! That’s sick!”

Dick tssks. “You’re being overly dramatic, dear. It was just sex, he smelled alright, and I created the situation myself. If I’d felt aversion enough not to handle it I’d let him know. I’m not some shy, repressed Conservative.”

“Bro, that was pretty cold,” Brad says to Luci. “Telling the O-bro you’d refuse him just because he’s scentless.”

Luci makes a whiny grimace. “Okay, so maybe I would if he begged me for it. But there’s no scent to entice me.”

“You’re missing out, bro. I think you should hook up. You should get mated and make pretty kitlings,” Chad teases since the fucker is too aware of Dick’s crush.

“I’m _not_ getting mated to Dick. First off, none of us are getting mated until all my brothers have presented and can approve. Second off, I couldn’t get mated to someone scentless. What if when I bring him home to the pack and we fix him, it turns out I hate his scent? Sorry, but I would never go in blind into a mateship.”

Dick keeps his face in a neutral expression with a faintly amused quirk to his lips. Inside of him his heart is racing and the hurt and rejection hammers with each quick beat. Crowley squeezes his hand. He wishes Chad and Brad didn’t know about his crush so they wouldn’t understand that it’s painful for him to hear this. This is why he shouldn’t get drunk and fool around with Mike. No matter what happens between him and a Packrunner nothing good can come out of it unless the whole pack agrees. And Luci’s putting his veto against Dick right now. 

Dick sticks his foot out under the table, gets it under one of the front legs of Luci’s chair, and lifts his foot, making Luci tip over backwards with a startled yelp to land on the floor. “Hey!” Luci protests and scowls at Dick while righting his chair and sitting back up again.

“What makes you think _I_ would have sex with _you_? Sure, you _look_ like the ideal Alpha. But then you open your mouth and dispel the notion. So let’s get this straight once and for all, shall we? _I_ am not a pity fuck. I may not have a scent but I know my value. You can’t court worth a shit, with other words, you can’t earn my attention. All these college Os throwing themselves at you have made you forget that it doesn’t work that way in the real world. Mike, pining over the unattainable, has an edge over you since it makes him try harder. When he’s done with college he’ll be a masterful courtier since he’s used to aim out of his league. You, on the other hand, go for the easy pickings. Omegas in league with what befits your pack won’t be bedazzled by a pair of red eyes. You bring home an O like that and your Main will turn her away at the door. Furthermore, an Omega so easily bewitched by physical attributes is likely to be judgemental of handicaps. She might not be so kind to Raff. And if you bring home an O who mocks him for his noseblindness I will personally see to that she disappears.”

Luci had been glaring sullenly at him but when he mentions Raphael a smile creeps onto his face. “I was gonna come with some scathing remark but then you go all protective over my baby brother. Don’t worry, sweetheart, if she picks on him _I_ will make her disappear. Besides, how would you even know?”

“Oh, that’s easy, dear. I’m going to be head of the HR department at your company,” Dick says with a playful smirk that doesn’t correspond with how he feels.

Luci sniggers. “Nice try, hot shot. But one of us brothers will have that position.”

Dick shrugs. “Second in command then. I’m not that picky,” he says offhandedly with a cheeky glint in his eyes. It makes all of them laugh or snigger, cleaning the air.

Except, Dick’s hurting from the final rejection. Crowley senses this but doesn't say anything about it. Not until they come home where he _still_ doesn’t say anything about it and instead just lies holding Dick while purring comfortingly into his neck until Dick falls asleep.

After this Dick nearly makes the mistake of drunkenly sleep with Mike twice more but both times Crowley’s suddenly there to pull him away. He’s a pissbaby about it when it happens but very grateful the day after. He and Mike simply can’t get drunk together or things happen. Dick starts partying in the Beta house instead. It amuses him, because once he declared that he’d only show off his primal attributes on request and that he has no harmful intentions when he does so, it turns out that Progs too have a thing for red eyes. It shouldn’t be surprising. ‘The Red-Eyed Alpha’ has been the ultimate ideal throughout history. They’re mentioned on ancient rune stones, depicted on shards of pottery in archaeological excavations, described as the hero in the oldest scripts all the way up to popular movies. Dick’s no Alpha, but since red eyes are so rare he still has the same effect on people as Lucifer and he learns how to use that in another way than Luci―like a subtle instrument, rather than a sledgehammer. With Progs who are drawn to the red eyes it’s particularly funny since so many of those who live in the Beta house are noseblind. To them, he _is_ an Alpha.

Crowley had been right when he urged Dick to go out partying. When Dick started college he’d been determined to keep his head down and fly under the radar, but it’s all about the networking. He’s making a name for himself, getting known and liked. He uses the scents he has in the vials effectively to manipulate. He manages to come off as dominant but in an unobtrusive and polite way. A polished facade. It gets him offers to move into both the Omega house and the Beta house. It’s another marker, another step or two up the social ladder. He asks Crowley what he thinks he should do when he gets those offers. His instinct is to say no, but he and Crowley have a common goal. To Dick, Crowley is family and allowed to give his input to sway Dick’s decisions. When he gets the offer to move into the Beta house Crowley is stunned and spends a whole day muttering “Bollocks!”, “Complete tosh!”, and “Bugger!” He simply can’t wrap his head around that they invited a Primal to move in to a house reserved for Progs. In the end Dick makes the same choice as Chad and Brad did when they were offered to move into the Alpha house. He stays with ‘his boys’.

These days he very rarely sleeps with any Alpha except Chad, Brad and Sebastian. He’d welcome Crowley but Crowley is careful not to get him going too strongly. Whatever Crowley’s problem is, he’s not talking. Dick wonders if Crowley’s afraid of an accidental mating happening since they’re so closely bonded already. Truth is, Dick wouldn’t be averse to mating with Crowley. It’d help them achieve their goal much better since Dick’s pining for the Williamses would get bearable in the same way his pining for Peter got bearable when he got mated to the Europeans.

Dick surprises everyone but himself by getting into a serious relationship with another Omega for a short while. She’s a Primal and they’re not monogamous. They could have been, if she’d been a male like Dick. But he’s got needs that she lacks the appendage to fulfil. So he keeps to her and ‘his boys’. It’s the pretty Asian who had asked Luci to knot outside of her. Dick adores her and Crowley purrs in contentment anytime she sleeps over even if he’s not invited to share their bed. They break up through mutual agreement when she starts being courted by someone she wants to mate. For once, Dick isn’t torn up about it and hopes she’ll be happy with the Alpha. 

He starts getting spontaneous offers for the required fourth year internship from fellow students whose families own businesses. Dick’s determined to make sure both Crowley and he get what they want so he doesn’t say yes even if he doesn’t turn some offers down per se. He’s still not sure about how he’ll make it happen. But he’ll will. Somehow.

* * *


	17. Internship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to file the paperwork for the fourth year internships. Dick and Crowley have a problem. They haven't gotten the offers they want. Dick... hasn't got a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter finally! Lots of things that will tie into the future for all our boys. The next installment will be Sam waking up with Luci. :)
> 
> Thank you for all your kind messages. <3

### A Packrunners Promise

“Dick! Dick! You need to come quickly! It’s Chad and Brad! They’re killing each other!” Ted, a Conservative freshman living in their dorm comes running reeking of distressed while Dick, Mike and Luci stand talking outside the dorm wing. 

“Now that doesn’t sound right,” Luci states.

Ted puffs his answer out of breath when he stops in front of them, wild-eyed leaning against his knees. “I swear! You need to. _Do_ something!”

The three of them look at each other in bemusement. Unwilling to believe the truth of the statement. “What happened?” Dick asks, turning to Ted.

“They were in the common room eating sandwiches. Then Chad leaned in and _kissed_ Brad! Like a Prog! Then suddenly they were fighting!”

“Oh dear, it’s happening,” Dick chirps excitedly and takes off running uncaring if the others follow or not. He’d thought this would happen when Brad’s in a Rut considering how the two of them had acted when Brad was Rutting, but no. He’s not even in pre-Rut. Dick barely registers running up the three flights, mind to full of anticipation. He rips the door to their wing open and is hit by a tangible wall of scent - fear, arousal, excitement. Nothing to hint at real violence is going on except for the fear. But the fear isn’t coming from Chad or Brad. He comes just in time to see Chad slam Brad up against the corridor wall, roaring in his face and being roared at right back. Both are flaring full force, mouths gaping aggressively to show off full fangs. It’s easy to see why Ted would think murder is about to happen despite both of them reeking of arousal and excitement. They _look_ like they’re about to kill. The way Chad grabs Brad’s shirt to pull him close just to slam him back against the wall again. The way Brad digs his nails into Chad’s midriff so hard it’s bound to leave marks even without claws and through the thick fabric of the shirt. The growling, roaring, wide eyes and deep frowns. If Dick hadn’t seen his Europeans―Murph and Klaus in particular―challenge each others’ rank during bonding sex he might have been confused too since this type of Alpha on Alpha is rare to witness. _Any_ type of Alpha on Alpha is rare to witness.

Chad and Brad are heedless of their audience peeking out from behind doors or staring openly like Dick. They bend in to sniff each others’ ear glands, rub their temples against each other and bite necks and shoulders.

Mike’s the first to catch up with Dick. Dick’s too mesmerized to take note of it until Mike hugs him from behind and puts his head on Dick’s shoulder to watch. Luci’s next. He leans an elbow on Mike’s shoulder. “Took them long enough,” Luci states.

Dick nods his agreement. 

Brad suddenly pushes Chad away roaring. They puff themselves up, posturing, circling each other growling. The scent of their arousal is stronger. It’s turning Dick on. Mike and Luci too, judging by their smell.

Ted finally catches up to them, completely out of breath. “See? I told you! You gotta. Stop them,” he wheezes.

“Oh, no, dear. They’re not trying to kill each other. They’re about to have sex.”

“ _What?_ ”

“What you’re seeing is something rare and beautiful,” Mike interjects. “A new pack is born. And when they have sex now it’ll be established who’s the Patriarch. That’s why it’s so violent.”

“I bet it’s Chad,” Luci muses. 

“Definitely Chad,” Mike agrees.

Dick chuckles. He gets why they think that. Brad always folds when Chad wants something. However… “Ten grand says it’ll be Brad,” he states. He doesn’t have that much money to spare but he’s 99% certain he’s right. Brad folds when Chad gets distressed, nervous, or angry like when the army recruiter wanted him to join the forces and he said no. It’s the Patriarch’s job to see to his pack’s wellbeing. He’s not supposed to think about himself. So by appearance Chad dictates and leads, but in reality, Brad’s the one taking care of him. Add to that, that Brad’s a Primal and Chad is a Prog convert who still needs some guidance in how to be a Primal and Brad will without any doubt turn out to be the Patriarch in their otherwise equal relationship.

“You’re on,” Mike answers confidently.

Chad and Brad are back at it after some shoving and pushing. They hold onto each other and lick the secretion from each others’ ear glands. Dick can hear them siphoning. It goes on like that for a bit―growling, roaring, shoving, posturing, scenting, marking and siphoning―until they kiss and stumble into their room leaving the door open carelessly, drawing those who aren’t afraid to come watch. That’s where they start losing clothes and finally, after some struggling, Brad knots Chad who becomes completely docile while Brad growls threateningly at the people watching curiously in the doorway. 

Dick can smell that their scents have changed.”You owe me ten grand,” he tells Mike.

“Worth it,” Mike states, still hugging Dick from behind, discreetly rubbing his temple against Dick’s. Dick’s not concerned about being marked up at the moment. He vows that one day he’ll be able to make and lose bets for ten grand with nothing more than a shrug like Mike just did. He feels Luci’s arms slip around Mike’s midriff against his back. All three of them are secreting profusely, unlike George, Ted, Marvin, and Taylor who are also standing in the doorway watching. Oh, they’re secreting too. It’s a natural reaction to what’s happening. But Dick and the two Williamses are secreting plentifully, and that’s not taking into account how slick Dick is. He reflects that it must have something to do with Packrunning. _I’m not a Packrunner_ , he tells himself. Still, when Luci starts siphoning his brother and Mike starts licking the secretion by Dick’s ear it’s next to a compulsion to join into affirming of bonds he isn’t supposed to be partial to. “Can I siphon you?” he asks, wincing inwardly when he hears himself speak. He knows the answer to that already.

“Su―” Mike starts with a raspy voice, but is cut off by Lucifer.

“No. But you can taste,” he offers and removes one arm from around Mike just to capture some of his own secretion on his finger and reaches around to feed it to Dick. It’s not fair what it does to Dick. How everything about Lucifer is perfect except for his stubborn rejection. He keeps feeding Dick his secretion while Mike sucks at Dick’s ear gland. Dick thinks he shouldn’t be allowing this. He shouldn’t be part of this bonding experience. But he’s swept up in it and Luci’s siphon-high and drowsy. Mike rubs himself against Dick’s glands, marking himself up (uselessly, pointlessly) like Peter used to do. There’s no stopping this. When Mike backs all three of them out of the doorway Dick lets himself be pulled along. Luci leans against the opposite wall with heavy eyelids over his red flare, purring in lazy contentment and pulls the two of them against his chest so they can both lick at his throat―an invite Dick promptly takes, enjoying how their breastbone purrs are syncing and their wonderful, _wonderful_ scent grows stronger around him. He closes his eyes and flares. He hears Mike starting to siphon Luci. It’s really hard to refrain to do it himself. It hits him then, that Mike’s been licking _him_ before he siphoned Luci. By logic, that should mean he’s siphoning them both. He wonders what that tells Mike about him? If anything? He opens his eyes to look at Mike.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Luci breathes and stares at him, drawing his attention. Dick’s bright red flare reflects on his face. 

It takes Dick a full second to figure out that Luci’s staring in wonder because he’s never seen Dick flare before. When he does, he smirks. “I told you, dear. They want you to breed me because I have such pretty eyes.”

Mike’s grip on the both of them tightens when Luci leans in to taste Dick’s throat. Mike shifts to pull the collar of Dick’s shirt down and suddenly he’s sucking on the neck gland while growling and teething, a sharp, aggressive edge entering his aroused scent. Dick gasps, squeezes his eyes shut, clings to Luci and keens a purr. He attaches himself to Luci’s throat, laving like his life depended on it. Someone’s hand goes to the back-zipper of his Omega pants―he thinks it’s Luci helping his brother out―and Dick just _knows_. He knows that if he lets this happen in this situation right now, they’ll find themselves accidentally mated, or, at the very least, pack bonded. He just knows it. His feelings for these two idiots are too strong. They’re too close friends. There are too many bonding hormones triggered by Chad and Brad’s display. He knows both the Williams Alphas are caught up in a bonding high since Luci’s gone docile and Mike’s turning feral rather than the other way around like normal. Unlike Chad and Brad, their rank is already settled and Luci currently isn’t challenging Mike for it. Dick’s gonna be caught up in the middle of it. He’ll siphon them and they won’t stop him, caught up in the rhythm of it. For a glorious moment he’ll be living a dream he refuses to acknowledge having. Luci won’t stop it from happening now. He won’t go against Mike. But then when they come down from the high he’ll remember he vetoed it. Dick will be denied yet another active mateship, rejected from another pack. It’ll be the Hales all over again. This is instinct. No courtship to precede it, no verbal agreements like with the Europeans. No matter how badly he wants it right now it’s going to end in heartbreak for him and make him a liar since he told Luci he has to be courted.

Pushing himself away from the two Alphas bracketing him might be one of the hardest things he’s done. “No. I’ve told you. I have to be earned,” he tells them when they whine in protest. Then he shoulders past George and Taylor to get to his room.

* * *

Crowley steps into their room and scents the air, then scowls at Dick who’s sitting on his bed writing a paper. “Bugger. You knob-headed twat. You slept with Mike again. Have you lost your marbles? You know how you get afterwards.”

Dick smirks. “I didn’t, actually. I siphoned Lucifer.”

Crowley’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “He allowed that?”

Dick laughs. “What do you think? Of course not. He let me taste him and the moment I closed the door behind me in private I siphoned the secretion left in my mouth. But it gives me a problem. I’ve showered three times already and his wonderful scent won’t go away, which means he’ll know I did it. I was hoping you’d mark me up to high heavens to cover Luci’s scent with yours so I don’t have to scrub myself raw.”

Crowley huffs and shrugs out of his jacket. “Get naked, arsewipe. I won’t be able to claim you properly if you’re clothed,” he says and pulls his T-shirt over his head.

Dick chuckles lazily and reaches out to put pen and his writing pad away, then he wiggles out of his pants first.

Crowley watches the sluggish way he moves and exclaims “Blimey! You’re still high, aren’t you?”

“Oh, definitely. It won’t go away,” Dick agrees and pulls his shirts off too. “I think it was all the bonding hormones at work. Chad and Brad pack bonded today and we were around to see it.”

“About bloody time. It only took them three years,” Crowley says, removing his pants and socks. 

“Mmmhm,” Dick agrees contentedly. “It stirred us all up one way or another. Mike and Luci proceeded to reaffirm their bond in our common room.”

“Yes, I smelled that they’d had sex there. But I thought it was you and Mike.” Crowley comes to bed and crawls up between Dick’s legs.

“No. I did the sensible thing for once and withdrew.” He huffs in amusement. “I think poor Teddy is scarred for life. He thought Chad and Brad were trying to kill each other. And after Mike and Luci left, Ted kept walking back and forth in the corridor, muttering ‘Packrunners are crazy’ over and over. He’s such a sheltered boy he’d be eaten alive where I come from. Although, he did stick around to watch both Chad and Brad, and then Mike and Luci. I wonder if he’s having confused thoughts about other Alphas right now. It amazes me how many Conservatives who don’t even think of that as an alternative. It’s not that uncommon amongst Progs,” Dick muses drowsily. “It’s probably because so many of them can’t smell and that they mate based on personality.” He chuckles to himself and wraps his arms around Crowley when Crowley lies down on his chest. “Did you know I’ve heard several Progs tell me I’m the ideal Alpha?”

“It doesn’t surprise me, love. You bonk like an Alpha. At times it even looked like you knotted Annie.”

Annie. Dick’s ex-girlfriend. Dick smiles and purrs when Crowley finally starts rubbing his temples against him. “Mh. I did, actually. Nobody wants me to be an O. They all prefer me as an Alpha. That’s why I fuck like an Alpha. Luckily I have this…” He reaches out and picks the inflatable cock ring out of his drawer along with its remote.

“What’s that?”

“My knot.” He puts it around two fingers then hits the remote to make it swell. Only to snigger when Crowley starts smelling excited. “Oh? You like this, huh? Maybe it’d help you keep your erection so I can finally feel you inside of me? Or maybe we’re not allowed to talk about it,” Dick muses curiously in his fuzzy, content state of mind. “Are you afraid we’d accidentally get mated? It could happen, you know? You’re my family. I love you. I’m pretty certain my body would produce the hormones that are required for a mating. If your affection for me is even close to what I feel for you then we’d get mated.”

Crowley sniggers, scent happy and with the beginning of arousal. “I’m not afraid to get mated to you, you bellend. But right now it would be bloody inconvenient, wouldn’t it?”

“How so?”

“Your chameleon skills and availability is what’s gonna get you the position you want. Getting yourself mated will make others step off without even thinking about it. Just like being mated will be an advantage once you’re in position and want to keep it.”

“Get _us_ what we want, dear. Us. I’m never letting go of you now. Your mother who sold you can’t have you back. Your so-called, shitty parents who abandoned you just because they pooped out a sibling can’t have you back.” Dick looks at the ceiling thoughtfully and scratches Crowley’s hair. “Balt can have you. You’re such a lovely couple. But nobody else unless I say so. They can borrow you, but not have you.”

Crowley’s strong happiness tickles his nose and belies the dry look he gives Dick.

Dick keeps purring his content breastbone purr. “It’s our friendship I’m talking about. I’m not saying you can’t fuck around, dear,” Dick adds. “I wish you couldn’t,” his high mind decides to confess. “It makes me feel rejected and wonder what’s wrong with me since you don’t want me when you clearly gladly will have any other O that’ll let you. I’m jealous. I feel snubbed, since you deep-purred and propositioned me when we met, but once I gave in you wouldn’t knot me. Alphas never deep-purr for me, dear. During all the time I was mated to Peter, he never once did it. I know _why_ now, since I study biology and psychology and I know behaviour such as that is very tied to scent. But you did it. It’s a form of manipulation I’m very susceptible to, since it’s so rare and makes me feel wanted and seen for what I am. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that those I feel or have felt the closest to, have all deep-purred for me. The Europeans, you, Chad and Brad. Funny, now that I think about it. Yet you don’t want me.”

Crowley’s laid his head on Dick’s shoulder to listen to his drifting confessions. “It’s not that, love. I’d like nothing more than to knot you. But…” He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose. “I get nervous and insecure and since I give a damn what you think it gets ten times worse. It doesn’t help that you’re out of my league and a bloody size queen. I’ve been discarded by the most important people in my life twice. That Omega that mocked me for my size? It wasn’t the first and won’t be the last. So when we get going my brain gets carried away and I freeze up like a useless knob.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I can’t control it and it’s bloody embarrassing. Why do you think I always spend so much time getting the Omega to come before I try to knot her?” Crowley grumps.

“It happens with other Omegas than me too?”

“Rarely, these days. But, yes, darling. With others too.”

Dick hums thoughtfully without letting up his content purr. Lucifer’s secretion had hit him like a bomb when he siphoned it. A bomb of bliss. Generally, Dick was good at hiding when he was riding a siphon-high these days. But not Lucifer’s. He wonders if it’s because of all the bonding hormones or if it’s because it’s Luci and Luci’s everything that’s good, and pure, and awful in this world. He’s like Peter. But better because he’s untainted by murder. An unrelated thought strikes him and he chuckles. “What’s this bullshit about me being out of your league?”

Crowley mumbles something incoherent Dick’s pretty sure he isn’t supposed to understand.

“Crowley, dear. If you were out of my league I wouldn’t want you, now would I? And, yes. I confess. I do have a thing for big knots, but I would be a hypocrite if I let that dictate who I couple with after the spiel I gave Luci about physical attributes. It’s not your knot that makes me want you. It’s not your knot that makes me include your goals when I plan my future.”

“Speaking of future. I got an offer for an internship on Talon Inc. in LA.”

“Oh? I thought we were gunning for the Williams Corp?”

“That would have been my first choice, yes. But Luci said they aren’t taking interns for some godforsaken reason.”

“Mmmh. Don’t worry. I’ll get us both in.”

“How?”

“I’ll figure it out…”

* * *

The date they have to turn in their self-chosen, accepted internship application to the school is closing in fast. Failing to do so will get you a randomly assigned company. The internship is often a backdoor to a job at said company, or, depending on how you chose - a stepping stone. Both Crowley and Dick have good, individual offers to choose from. They’ve decided they will keep sharing an apartment in the city even if the internship very well might put them on different sides of the country for most of the time. It’s not a problem since Crowley’s so-called parents are still dutifully paying for everything until Crowley has finished his education. This way they’ll have a rendezvous point and a safe space just for them whatever happens. So, technically they’re both set. But Dick still hasn’t managed to secure the internship the two of them want. He’d thought Luci was just being a dick as usual, vetoing Crowley out of spite or something like that. But no. He’s learned now that the Williams Corp doesn’t take interns. They either hire people who have finished their education or recruit from within. Why? Because the interns have to have someone assigned as a guide/teacher and liaison between the school, taking time away from their normal work. At the level he and Crowley are aiming for, the Williamses don’t deem it cost effective. Luci and Mike will intern in their own company, of course, but that’s different since they’re learning how to run the company they’ll inherit. Most students who are supposed to go into the family business do it that way.

Dick still hasn’t found a way to work around it.

Now, though, his mind isn’t on that. It’s the weekend. He’d been partying at the Beta house, dancing with a couple of Omegas that all thought he’s an Alpha, fawning over his red eyes even when he was just flaring politely to a degree where his eyes are barely glowing. He finds it amusing, and was content just to dance and get drunk. But then his Heat hit almost a week too early. He blames Chad and Brad since Brad’s Rut triggered early too after their bonding and Brad’s Rut had been synced with Dick’s Heat for months. He leaves the party on unsteady legs, heading towards their dorm like a homing bird. It’s not until he gets there that he remembers that both Chad and Brad are playing an away game this weekend. “ _Damn it!_ Fucking football players,” he mutters discontentedly. His skin is itching, he’s feverish and waspish, slick leaks too freely, and the impulse to start panting as if he’s short of breath is pressing. He hides his symptoms well these days. He can’t stop his skin from burning or sweat from forming but other than that people don’t know he’s in Heat unless he told them. Usually, that is. Usually, he isn’t drunk. 

He goes into his room. Crowley isn’t there and there’s no fresh scent of him either so he’s probably partying in the Alpha house. He pulls off his shirt to get some relief from the overheating, drops it on the floor then goes to open the door to peek outside. George comes walking down the corridor. Dick flares and growls threateningly at him, making him scuttle back in the direction he came from. “Fuck, what’s wrong with me?” Dick mutters and goes back into his room. He knows what’s wrong. He’s in Heat and wants one of _his_ Alphas. His intoxication level has more or less eradicated inhibition and dragged him down to the lowest form of Primal behaviour. George is ‘his’ too by all means, but not allowed to knot him and therefore should keep his distance. It’s absurd. He vows never to get drunk during a Heat again. Not that he could have avoided it since it came early and took him by surprise. Briefly, he considers going down to the Alpha house to find Crowley. Crowley might fail to perform a knotting but he can still help bring relief. But Crowley might not be there. Worse, he might be with another Omega and in the state Dick is in mentally he might lash out towards her and that would be bad. He can’t call Sebastian a late weekend night either. He whines in annoyance shrugs out of his pants and goes to lie down on his bed to play with his dildo and fake knot.

45 minutes later he’s up and pacing again. He’s seriously considering going down to the Alpha house to find someone suitable to play with. But he’s become notoriously picky about who he sleeps with. He may not mind having several lovers, but he wants stable ones―repeat performances, if you will. He has four Alphas to choose from and none of them is currently available. It pisses him off. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t because he’s not a fucking Packrunner thank you very much, so he shouldn’t react like a Packrunner separated from his pack during a Heat. 

Muffled by the door he hears someone holler something followed by laughter. Annoyance mixed with hope it’ll be Crowley coming back, he goes to rip the door open uncaring for his nudity. It isn’t Crowley. 

Mike and two Alphas from the opposite dorm wing (who Dick hasn’t bothered learning the name of) are helping Taylor back to his room. Chad and Brad would approve. Poor Taylor is too drunk to stand―let alone walk―on his own. Mike and the Alphas are also drunk off their asses and that’s what the ruckus is about. Toting a deadweight when you yourself can’t walk straight isn’t easy. They repeatedly tumble against the corridor walls pulling the others along when they trip, erupting in laughter every time.

Dick scents in their direction. Inside of him, something says _Yes! Good!_ when Mike’s scent hits his nostrils. He flares and waits impatiently for them to come up alongside of him. They’re too drunk and set upon their task to take note of him until he grabs Mike by the upper arm and yanks him away from the others, making them tumble against Chad and Brad’s closed door. He pulls the alarmed Mike close and growls in his face. “I’m in Heat and pissed off about it. _Fix it!_ ” He demands.

Mike blinks in distressed confusion like he doesn’t really follow. Dick’s scowling fiercely and growling so his poor alcohol soaked Alpha brain can’t compute without a scent to tell it Dick’s not about to murder him. Not until Dick reaches back with one hand, coats his fingers with slick and then puts his fingers against Mike’s lips does he get it. Mike flares brightly, grins and purrs, grabs Dick’s ass to pull them flush, then walks them backwards into Dick’s room. Behind them, the other Alphas laugh at them, but Mike slams the door and aims for Dick’s bed.

Dick’s dimly aware that sometime during the night Crowley opens the door, stops and exclaims “ _Bollocks,_ ” then leaves again. Only dimly, because at the time Mike’s firmly knotted and milking his neck gland with his clever mouth.

When Dick wakes up he’s hungover and everything is wonderful. Mike’s sleeping half on top of him - a heavy comfort with hair a disarray. Crowley’s in his own bed. Dick can smell his sour discontent. He strokes his fingers along Mike’s spine, purring a breastbone all-is-well for Crowley’s benefit. It isn’t. He shouldn’t sleep with Mike and he knows it. But yesterday he had been going on instinct and now it’s too late. He can’t exactly sneak out so he’ll enjoy it for now.

His purring makes Mike stir. He lifts his head and blinks blearily at Dick, a slow smile creeping on his face. “Hey…”

“Hey…”

“You’re still here,” Mike says with a hint of wonder in his sleepy expression. Dick sniggers and raises an amused eyebrow at him. Mike looks around. “Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Mike looks back at him. “So what did I do?”

“Now you’re just being stupid. I’m in Heat. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”

Mike’s lip pulls up in a lopsided smile. “Not what I meant, baby. I’m sorry. The last thing I remember from yesterday is sitting on the couch doing shots with Taylor, Mack, and Roger. I wake up with you. Somewhere between then and now I did something right since I know you have to be earned and you didn’t throw me out. What did I do?” Mike explains.

Dick’s heart starts thumping faster. This is it. “You promised me and Crowley internships at your company,” he lies.

“ _Fuck._ ” Mike sits up and squeezes his eyes shut with a grimace, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dick’s heart plummets. It was a chance taken but he can’t help the disappointment. He covers himself with the comforter and looks away from Mike. “That’s alright. Serves me right for believing the drunken promises of a Pa―”

“No, no, _hey_ ,” Mike quickly lies down to hold him again with an earnest expression. “Aiden will keep my promises. Don’t worry, you’ll have your internship. I’ll call when I get back to the House, and make sure the paperwork is fixed and sent over here tomorrow.”

“For me and Crowley. We come as a pair and you promised both of us internships.” Dick’s glad Mike can’t smell his excitement about his lie working. He might not have interpreted it as lies anyway but you never know. Crowley is definitely awake because his sour discontent switches into a wonderfully pleased scent.

“Of course. For you and Crowley,” Mike agrees and nuzzles him.

“Then why curse about it, dear? We’re both great assets for the company. Is it because Luci will be a little bitch about the continued rivalry?”

Mike sniggers. “Honestly? I think he’ll be thrilled. He’s been keeping track of what offers Crowley’s gotten and ranted angrily when Talon Inc made their offer. I don’t think he wants our competitors to get their hands on Crowley. Luci’s always been weird about him.”

“Then why?”

“Because it means I’m gonna get a very stern talking to by father. We were specifically informed we weren’t allowed to tell friends yes if they asked for internships.”

“Then how can you be so sure they’ll honour your promise?”

Mike chuckles, hazel-green eyes twinkling with amusement. “Dick, I’m a Packrunner. We always honour our promises even when they have bad consequences for ourselves.”

Which is why Peter led the attack on the Europeans, despite claiming he wanted no part of it. Which is why the Europeans didn’t surrender the weapons in the first place. It wasn’t their weapons, he’s sure of it. They belonged to Krushnic/agent Porter. With some simple math, it’s obvious. With what guns cost on the black market and how many they had, they’d been able to both move and fund Dick’s whole education if they sold everything and got to keep all the winnings themselves. But when he’d overheard them talk about selling off their stash, they’d said they could fund a year’s tuition. With other words, somebody else made the lion’s share of their winnings. Dick narrows his eyes and reaches for the drawer in his nightstand. He pulls it out and grabs his phone, then holds it towards Mike.

Mike laughs, scent turning happy. “Oh boy, you’ve got some trust issues, don’t you?” he says with a grin and takes the phone. “Alright, I’ll call right away.” He sits up and dials a number from memory, then waits. It takes a couple of seconds before anyone picks up. Mike’s happy scent gets a note of faint distress of nervousness. “Uncle Aiden! Hi. So I was drunk yesterday and fucked up, but it was a good mistake so hear me out.” The words tumble out of him quickly as if he wants to say his bit before Aiden can scold him. Crowley pushes himself up on his elbows and looks at Mike while he talks. “Yes, so, like I said. I was drunk. An O in Heat and promises were made. I made the promise that Fergus Crowley would get to intern in our legal department and that Richard Roman would get to intern on… I’m not quite sure, but I know he wants to get an HR job in the future. Anyway, I promised them both to intern with us.” There’s a pause when Mike listens to what Aiden says before he speaks again. “I know. But Crowley is the guy Luci’s always ranting about and if we don’t snatch him up, Talon will. They’d already offered him a place with them. I’d rather have him on our side than having him―” He pauses to listen to the response and nods. “Exactly.” Another pause to listen. “Richard? You’ve met. It’s Dick. You know the guy who chased off Raff’s bully?” Mike’s eyes go round. He removes the phone from his ear to stare at it for a beat as if it had gone mad before putting it to his ear again. “I take it you don’t mind him interning with us too bad then, huh?..... Yes. …..And could you…? Uh… Could you soften up father for me a bit?” The faint distressed note disappears from Mike’s scent and he relaxes with a smile. “Great. Thanks. ….Do that. That’s perfect. Thanks again. I gotta go now... Talk to you later. Okay, bye.”

Mike hangs up and hands Dick the phone back with a shiteating grin. “Done. The paperwork will be here within two hours. And, _boy_ , you _really_ made an impression on Aiden, didn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because as soon as he understood I meant you he started purring. I mean, he’s as bad as Luci when it comes to Omegas, but that’s not a common reaction from him. So… You’re still in Heat, right? Have I served my purpose or can I stay and have another go? One I can actually remember for once.”

Dick purrs and pulls him in for a kiss, uncaring for hungover morning breath. He likes kissing like a Prog, so sue him. Mike likes it too. And right now something inside of him is singing in joy. He wishes it didn’t have anything to do with Aiden liking him. “Please, do.”

“Where did we put the condoms?”

“What condoms?”

Mike groans and lets his head fall onto Dick’s chest. “We didn’t use condoms?”

“We’ve never used condoms, dear. I thought that wasn’t a big deal for you.”

“I always use condoms. You make me stupid.” He lifts his head. “Hey, Crow―” he starts but is interrupted by the pack of condoms Crowley throws at them.

* * *

Crowley smells pleased. He brings them food and drink, and sticks around writing on a paper due Monday. He even takes a moment to jerk off watching them. He’s the one to receive the FedEx delivery with their intern papers signed by Aiden. Mike is eventually forced to leave because he has duties elsewhere. Dick immediately goes to sit down and straddle Crowley by his desk, winding his arms around him purring. “I told you I would fix it somehow.”

Crowley smirks. “I hadn’t expected you to extract a promise in return for a knotting, darling. That seemed rather blunt even for you.” He practically oozes contentment.

“Oh dear. Dear me, no. I didn’t. It didn’t even occur to me that it would work as a bartering piece for Mike. I was just being my usual stupid self when I got drunk and my Heat hit too early. No, I took a chance when he asked me how he ended up in my bed. He’d made no promises whatsoever.”

Crowley purrs and leans in to inhale deeply by Dick’s throat. He had a semi already when Dick sat down and now it’s grown to a full erection. “I love it when you’re devious, darling.”

“Mmh. Hey, I thought you didn’t like their scent?” Dick points out since Crowley’s scenting him without disgust despite him reeking of Mike.

“I like their scent, love, or I wouldn’t want to work for them. But I hate their self-entitled affinity for claiming things that are mine or that I want,” Crowley admits. “Claiming things back always runs a risk of ticking them off and self-sabotage. Now, get off my lap. You’re getting my pants stained with your slick.”

“ _Or_ , you can take them off,” Dick suggests. “I’m quite comfortable sitting where I am.”

Crowley gets a hand under Dick to support him while he stands up and awkwardly pulls his pants off while muttering insincere complaints about stubborn Omegas and their antics. Dick giggles and clings, but does support himself with his feet on the floor until Crowley’s sat down again. Then he teeths wickedly, grabs Crowley’s dick and sinks down onto it. Crowley yelps and his scent goes from mildly aroused to very aroused while anxiety explodes in it.

Dick smirks and clenches around him. “See, dear. Now you won’t slip out even if you lose your erection and I finally get to have you inside of me,” he purrs and rolls his hips causing Crowley to gasp and push up to get deeper inside. “Now, would you be so kind as to mark me up and claim me right back from Mike? He won’t protest. I get to decide who can mark me. Besides, we’re practically siderunners to the Williams pack by now anyway.”

Crowley scoffs. “Darling, I want to work for Packrunners, not _be_ one. Only Packrunners can be siderunners.” He gets a teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re outing yourself as one right now.”

Dick makes an offended sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not Packrunning trash. Never will I be.” 

Crowley’s smirks. “Really? You only pine for other Packrunners. You boss us all around like a Main. And don’t forget that you have been part of two packs already. You told me yourself that, albeit unintentionally, you pack bonded with the Hales after your own pack was killed. Plus, darling, you know who the only ones who can say ‘when my pack…’ are? You guessed it - _Packrunners_.”

Dick flares brightly, elongates his fangs and growls threateningly in Crowley’s smug face. It makes the scent of Crowley’s arousal grow stronger and his dick to twitch inside of him. You just can’t win with Crowley. Showing fierceness towards him just turns him on. Which is good since he’s already inside and not losing his erection. “I’ve dabbled. It wasn’t for me,” he says. It’s not strictly true. His time with the Europeans might have been his happiest. Or maybe his time with Jeff. Maybe he’s simply the happiest when he’s not alone. “Besides, it’s not so much me always pining for Packrunners, as it is them not discriminating me as a potential partner and therefore showing interest like others don’t.”

“That might have been true once,” Crowley answers and runs his hands up and down Dick’s naked back. “But these days you don’t have that problem anymore. Lots of Primals show you interest. You’re just being picky.”

He is picky. They need to be equals at least. Preferably more powerful than him. But he’d probably fold much quicker for even lower ranking Alphas if they’d just deep-purr and court him properly. “The attention I get these days comes from my friendship with the Williamses and you know it. And this is college. The day we leave here it’s back to invisibility for me like it is every summer.” Since Crowley still hasn’t lost his erection Dick rolls his hips, squeezing his dick as best as he can.

“Bloody hell! Dick, get off me. I’ll be popping a knot in no time if you keep that up.”

“That’s the thought.” Dick keeps it up and instead leans forward to nuzzle Crowley’s ear gland while licking at his neck below, resisting Crowley’s attempts to dislodge him.

“Darling, I’m not wearing a con― _Bugger!_ ” Crowley suddenly folds with a growl, wrapping his arms around Dick to hold him tight while he gasps and jerks. _Finally_. Crowley’s knot swells, locking Dick in place while he comes. His knot may not be big, but it’s big enough to press on all the right spots. Dick purrs and rubs his temple and neck against Crowley, uselessly marking him up. “You’re an arse,” Crowley states when he’s collected himself somewhat. 

“Oh, you know you like it,” Dick sniggers.

“Obviously. But I’m not interested in becoming a dad.”

“Tssk. Don’t worry. If I get pregnant I’ll lose the kit within three weeks anyway.”

“That’s not remotely reassuring, love. Come on. Let’s maneuver to the bed so you can twist around and lie on your tummy. I want to reach your neck gland.”

* * *

The next morning when Dick wakes up he wakes up like he fell asleep―knotted―and surrounded by a scent that makes his heart sing. He’s _mated_. Crowley’s scent is happy and content. “Dear me. I wasn’t wrong about the accidental mating,” Dick mumbles.

“We’re both numpties but I can’t find it in myself to be miffed about it. I just worry what it’ll do to you if we’re separated. My bond will be intact for months, but yours?”

Dick chuckles to hide the anxiety that thought brings. “Don’t. I’ve told you so many times, dear, I’m not actually depressed.” Which… is true. His mood, when it swung, swung because of normal stuff. Things going badly and outer problems. He hadn’t felt that desolate sort of melancholy for quite a while now. Between sleeping cuddled with Crowley more often than not, having sex with Sebastian, Chad and Brad, and affectionate temple rubs from friends, Dick has been feeling pretty damn great even while pining for the Williamses. Being mated again is a wonderful feeling, but just like Crowley pointed out there’s a risk of depression hitting anytime they’re separated long enough for him to lose the bond. He’d never tell Crowley that. Not after what happened with Jeff. “I’m used to it. It’s not as bad for me as you think it is,” he lies. “As long as you don’t go get yourself dead, it’s fine.”

“That’s not on the to-do list anytime soon, love,” Crowley jokes.

“Can I siphon you?”

“We’re mated. I should bloody well think so.”

Dick purrs in contentment. It hadn’t been planned and he might not be _in_ love with Crowley or vice versa, but he loves him dearly and considers him family like he hasn’t considered his own family to be before they died. If anyone would have asked him to pick a mate it would have been Crowley. The Williamses are not open for choosing anyway, so he couldn’t be happier.

* * *

It still happens that Crowley loses his erection which is baffling, but Dick’s inflatable knot works wonders to help battle that. They’re not monogamous. Crowley will send him across the hall to Chad and Brad if he isn’t in the mood, and it happens that he has a fling with other Omegas but only after asking Dick first. But Crowley smells happy and content most of the time and Dick’s purr of all-is-well is near constant when they’re around each other. They party together at the Alpha house. It works now, since Mike no longer propositions him even if they get turned on dancing, and backs off if Crowley’s around to look displeased. The pining the Williams boys causes goes down to bearable levels. The summer comes and goes with three weeks of pure bliss when Balt comes to visit. Dick doesn’t mention it, but when it’s the three of them he gets the feeling of being a pack. 

The fourth year comes around with the internships. Both of them do a few weeks at HQ before Crowley is shipped off to another state. Dick too will be shipped to another state, but three weeks later. By then their mating bond has faded. The night before it’s time to travel there’s an office party at HQ. There’s an open bar, and music all night long. Dick gets drunk and dances. He dances with Luci. Luci isn’t a great dancer but _boy_ can he grind. He dances with Mike. They move together with great familiarity on the dance floor. He dances with Raphael. He’s a full Alpha grown now and Dick’s always felt him like a kindred spirit. He dances with Gabe. Of course, the little menace would be there with the rest of the pack. Although, it’s debatable if you can call what Gabe does dancing. It’s dancing if you count climbing up on, and wrapping his legs around Dick’s midriff, dancing. He offers Dick lollipops and wiggles his eyebrows. “Am I doing this right? Is this how it’s done?” Dick can barely keep himself upright from laughing at the Juvie’s clueless courting. Gabe hasn’t got the biological drive and understanding of courting yet, he’s just emulating the grownups to learn. “My brothers say you can’t win an Omega with lollipops.”

“You can catch the attention of even the most high ranking O with a Mars bar if your timing’s right, dear.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

He dances with Aiden. The Patriarch is a notorious flirt even when they’re working together (Dick’s first weeks have been as Aiden’s assistant. It’s been a real trial even before he lost his mate bond to Crowley.) but here in a setting that isn’t professional he’s much less caring for holding back on the flirting. And, _oh boy_ , did Luci learn how to do a good grind from his uncle!

He even dances with Marlon. Who politely inquires if he’s broken up with Crowley while following him perfectly on the dance floor, flowing elegantly and stepping in quick, advances movement combos. Marlon is by far the most technically skilled dancer in the family. Unlike the others, he adds a deep-purr when he dances close at Dick’s back with his hands on Dick’s hips. Marlon scares Dick a bit. Not because he’s aggressive or hostile, but because he keeps sober and is calculated in everything he does. Always polite and pleasant, but with a masterful ability to see the bigger picture and think long term. To figure out how the father in the family thinks you have to take a step back to look at the bigger picture, then zoom out even more. It’s hard, and Dick can rarely pin him down despite seeing him often while working with Aiden. He’s a handsome man who radiates power just like his older brother. Smells different, but just as good too.

Dick only bothers dancing with the Williams pack. Why waste time on anyone else when they’re the ones who smell so gorgeously? He gets quite drunk. Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he wakes up on the morning of his departure, in a luxurious hotel room tucked into a wonderfully scented Alpha chest. He sneaks out of there while the Alpha still sleeps. But only after stealing his T-shirt and two vials of secretion from him.

What does come as a surprise, though, is when one week later in Florida, Dick can smell that he’s pregnant. He patiently waits for the kitling to go away, but by the third month, something starts happening. He falls in love with his unborn kit and thrills at feeling it move. Being a parent doesn’t daunt him. He looks forward to it. But then five months in the vials are empty and the scent has long faded from the shirt and his body decides to reject the pregnancy. It almost kills him. If it wasn’t for Crowley, it would have.

* * *

After his 5-months miscarriage nearly kills him Dick stops drinking more than two glasses of anything together with any Williams. He only survives because Crowley jumps on a flight to be with him and care for him like Peter once did. They decide to go monogamous (with a few exceptions) to avoid further mishaps. Dick never informs the father of his pregnancy since they remain separated for half a year. He tones down his friendship level with all the Williams Alphas to something more professional and distant to protect himself from further heartbreak. 

Chad and Brad went on to pursue careers in engineering and architecture. A few years later they give up on their individual careers to become hosts of a wildly popular TV show where they visit people in need to remodel or rebuild their houses, becoming 'The Brosters' with all of the TV-watching America. They keep in touch with Crowley and Dick regularly and always come by to visit when they’re in town. They haven’t found an Omega mate yet that will mate them both but they don’t seem particularly bothered. They wear matching necklaces and swing seamlessly between acting like bros and being in-love sweet to each other.

Jeff still travels the world helping people. He writes or calls Dick monthly, and when he’s in town they often go out dancing while Crowley drinks wine and talk shit with Jeff’s mate, a Primal guy born as an Omega but who feels like an Alpha and who doesn’t like to be knotted even during his Heats. The two of them met via a personal ad on the internet. It makes Dick happy that Jeff found someone perfect for him, and Dick treasures the continued friendship even if it’s long distance most of the time. To Jeff, Dick still confesses truths he doesn’t even share with Crowley.

Sebastian remains Dick’s lover and doctor. He goes on to write several renown articles about congenital depression in adults based on what he learns about Dick. He makes a name for himself within scentless research. Neither Crowley nor Sebastian’s mate ever finds out that they fuck like dogs every time Dick comes in for a check-up. Sebastian might be an asshole but Dick develops a strong affection for the guy over the years since he’s very loyal in his own conceited way.

Crowley is still patiently waiting for Balt’s kits to grow up and present. The two of them often fly over to visit each other. Dick always rejoices when Balt comes and gets pissy when Crowley goes there. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he’ll find himself unmated since Crowley doesn’t want to run in a pack and if they’d move in together all three of them it’s what would happen.

Dick climbs the ranks within the company. He starts making a ridiculous amount of money since the Williams know how to reward loyalty and skills. People fear him due to the power he holds over their work and all he has to do is smile.

He only sees Peter once more. 

He’s just been interning as Aiden's assistant for a few weeks and goes to deliver a paper for Aiden to sign when he finds Peter in Aiden’s office. Both Marlon and Aiden are there, Marlon standing behind Aiden’s chair. Peter’s very angry and threatens them to break off all their deals. Dick speaks before he can stop himself. “If you ever loved me or the kits we lost…”

Peter sucks in a breath and turns around to look at him with wide eyes. “Richard,” he says, almost like a reverent whisper. 

“Peter, please. You once chose to ruin my life by adhering to the deals your pack made. Don’t ruin my life again by breaking them,” he pleads.

Peter turns away from the Williams brothers to walk up to Dick with a mournful expression. He stops only one stride away. “Come back to me. I killed Malicia. She won’t stand in our way again.”

Dick tilts his head to give Peter a sad look. “No. I won’t come back.”

“What will it take for you to forgive me?”

Dick closes the distance between them to cup Peter’s cheek. “I already have forgiven you. But I won’t come back. I’ve fought tooth and nail to get out of the slums and you won’t leave. You know it won’t happen.”

“I still love you,” Peter says and covers Dick’s hand with his own.

“And I, you. But this is goodbye, dear. I’m not meant for the kind of life you offer,” Dick says softly and leans their foreheads together.

Peter makes a wounded noise and closes his eyes. He nods after a moment of silence and looks at Dick with sad acceptance in his eyes. He nods again and smells of mourning. Dick kisses him. A soft, chaste press of lips. Some aches will never go away.

When they part Peter looks back at the Williams brothers with hate in his eyes. “Alright. For Richard’s sake, you get a second chance. But make one more mistake and you got a fucking war on your hands, you hear?” he growls sharply.

Then he leaves.

Dick never sees him again. 

It’s for the best.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please comment! <3


End file.
